


Harrison Alistair and the Chamber of Secrets

by MysticWolfShadows



Series: Harrison Alistair [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Harry Potter, Friendly Harry, Good Severus Snape, Hogwarts Second Year, Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, I think anyway, I've been told this Harry is adorable, Not Dumbledore Friendly, Sassy Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticWolfShadows/pseuds/MysticWolfShadows
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts for another year, and a better one. At least, that's what he had hoped.





	1. Dancing and Diagon Alley

When they returned home, Harry and his sisters were greeted eagerly by all the house elves and Derrick. Well, not exactly eagerly, in Derrick’s case, but it was close enough, considering how Derrick was. That night, they had the standard dinner meal that they had before Harry had left, and Mama had fussed and fawned over him all the while. She seemed to be checking him over for injuries every other hour. It was like she thought he would just disappear if she didn’t.

The day after they got back, the family came to dinner, and they celebrated Nina’s graduation. It was a rather loud party, compared to others Harry had seen in the house. Loud poppers, and a game of Quidditch, with a dinner that was more like a dinner at Hogwarts then the neat meals they had at home.

Everyone was impressed with his flying and Seeker skills, and Nina went off, bragging how she taught him all her skills. He’d have to work hard to pick up her slack the next year, showing whoever took her place as Chaser some moves. Harry held back giggles, since he hadn’t needed her to ‘show him some moves’. He had watched and learned mostly on his own.

The rest of the summer went by pretty quickly after that. Mama, once she had gotten over her fear that he would vanish, started to scold him every chance she could get about being safe and not doing things that could get him killed. It wasn’t another summer of just books, thank god, so Harry got to play Seeker’s games with Skyla, and go visit the Weasley’s every other week.

When his birthday rolled around, Papa finally showed him how to use the old slingshot he’d gotten quite a while back. When Harry thought back to the school year, knowing how to use the slingshot wouldn’t have been necessary, but still very helpful. His wand might not have gotten stuck up a trolls nose, and the winged key room might not have taken as long as it had. Harry was mostly just glad that he could spend some time with Papa.

He wasn’t the best shot, but he was picking it up pretty quickly.

The Gala came up quick after that. Ron was invited to come again, under the condition that they didn’t get into any more fights. Ginny, Ron’s younger sister, had tried to get permission to go as well, but Molly was entirely against it. Ron didn’t seem bothered by that, so Harry wasn’t either.

When the Gala finally came, Harry was dressed once more in dress robes, new ones to make up for the growing he had done over the year. Ron didn’t get new ones, and while they mostly still fit, the trousers were a bit short for his longer legs. Still, Harry was a little jealous. Even though they had only been worn once, Ron’s robes weren’t as stuffy as Harry’s new ones.

Mama had picked up on what they were doing rather early that year, and after dinner, Harry and Ron couldn’t stay at a table and play cards. They had to get up and dance, at least once. Marissa, who had come mostly because Dorian was on a date and had nothing else to do, had swooped in to teach Ron how to dance. Harry had stood on the sidelines for a moment, watching as Ron stepped on Marissa’s toes once more.

“By the end of the night, she won't be able to walk,” a voice said from beside him, making Harry turn. It was Malfoy with Parkinson. “Not dancing, Alistair?”

“Never danced with anyone before,” Harry admitted, giving Parkinson a nod of greeting. “Are you two going to dance?”

“You’ve never danced?” Parkinson asked. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you?”

“She tried,” Harry said. “But I was more interested in books last summer. Besides, there was no one my age to help teach me.”

Marissa came back with Ron, who was looking rather embarrassed. It was then that Harry realized that Marissa was his age, and could definitely teach him. And Malfoy seemed to realize this at the exact same time.

“Blake could surely teach you,” Malfoy said, nodding sharply. “If she can survive attempting to teach Weasley, then she can do wonders showing you a few steps.”

And them Harry was being pulled away to the dance floor, one of Marissa’s hands in his and his other hand on her waist. She gave him little instructions, telling him to take one step and then another. He spent most of the time looking down, trying to not step on her toes like Ron had. It wasn’t as easy as Mama and Papa had made it look.

After the third time Harry had stepped on her toes in half a minute, he gave up and tried to go back to sit with Ron. Only, as soon as Harry let go of Marissa’s hands, she had gone back to Ron to pull him once more to the floor. And, more shockingly, a new set of hands had take Harry’s. A male set of hands, moving Harry’s hands to the proper positions.

“Not so fast, Alistair,” Malfoy said, voice smooth and sharp. “Your mother has encouraged me to show you the proper steps.”

“What?” Harry balked, and looked down as he was pushed into motion, trying to watch where his feet went. Only, Malfoy’s shoe came up and kicked him in the shin. “Ow! Malfoy, what the hell?”

“Language,” Malfoy said coolly. “Now, first rule: Keep your eyes up.”

Harry stared at Malfoy, trying his best to keep his eyes up and ignore the wince Malfoy gave every time Harry stepped on his toes. He got a kick in the shin for every time he tried to look down. Only, it became clear that Harry was actually getting better at dancing. He was getting better, and it was thanks to Malfoy.

When the song was over, and Harry was free to escape the ballroom for the night, Harry went with Ron out into the garden. Malfoy didn’t join them, and instead went to dance with Parkinson once again. Zabini was out in a patch by the whistling flowers, sitting with Nott, and Harry wasn’t sure why he was surprised.

“Hello, Zabini,” Harry said as he moved to sit in the grass with Ron. “Hello, Nott.”

“Alistair,” Zabini said, a wide grin on his face. “And Weasley! Wasn’t expecting to see you two here tonight.”

“Why not?” Ron asked, getting a bit defensive before Harry could stop him. “Harry lives here! Or are we just not pompous enough for a party?”

Raising a brow, Zabini gave Ron a look. “Well, I just thought that you wouldn’t like something like this. Since you called it a ‘party’. Gala’s are big and fancy, and honestly, I don’t have much interest in them right now either. Aside from Blake and Parkinson, there really aren’t any girls our age here that are good to dance with.”

“I like them,” Nott said, half to himself, as he turned another page in the book he had with him. “My parents met at an Alistair Summer Gala… Mother called it love at first sight, like a scene out of a novel.”

Harry smiled, nudging Ron, who had gone a bit pink. “I keep telling you, Ron. These two aren’t that bad.”

They striked up a conversation at that, with Zabini telling them about his summer so far. Ron told them about his own summer, even telling the two about his sister coming to Hogwarts next year. There was a moment when Harry almost thought a fight would break out when Zabini asked if Ginny was cute, and Ron didn’t take it very well. Harry was able to defuse the situation by nudging Ron again, reminding him about what Mama had said.

At the end of the night, all four of them returned inside, and Harry was beckoned to Mama’s side with Skyla to say goodbye to the guests as they left. They family stood in a line by the door, Papa closest to the door, with Mama at his side, then it was Derrick, Nina, Skyla, and finally Harry. Apparently, it was customary for whoever was hosting to see everyone out the door. The only reason Harry hadn’t been a part of the line last year was because he had gotten in trouble.

With everyone gone, Harry went with Ron to get changed out of the stuffy robes, and into their pajamas. They were supposed to go to bed, but they stayed up late to play chess and exploding snap instead.

The next morning, they were both yawning at breakfast, with barely an hour of sleep. Harry lazily ate his toast, barely noticing when an owl flew in with letters for them. Mama checked on them, handing one each to Harry, Ron, and Skyla.

“School letters,” Mama said, as Hedwig flew in with a letter that was likely from Hermione. “I suppose you’ll want to go a day that you can see your muggleborn friend?”

“Yes,” Harry said, opening up the letter and giving it a quick read. “She apparently got her list yesterday, and she and her parents are planning to go today, so she can get an early read on the school books. Do you think we could floo call the Weasley’s about taking Ron with us?”

“Of course,” Mama said, and set her napkin side to stand from the table, Dizzy rushing to clear her place. “I’ll speak with Molly and we can be on our way as soon as we’re finished with breakfast.”

With that, Mama was moving out of the room, and down the hall to the study. Harry gave a bit of a yawn, and finished his porridge before heading back up to his room to get ready for the day. Ron followed him, getting his own things ready to go, since he needed to go home that day either way. When Mama came back, she announced the Ron would go with them to Diagon Alley, and the Weasley’s would meet them there while Dizzy took Ron’s things home for him.

Harry eagerly looked over his book list, frowning when he noticed that they seemed to need the entire collection of Gilderoy Lockhart books. Ron took notice to, and made a comment about how their new teacher was probably a fan. Papa grumbled something about someone being a hack.

When they arrived at Diagon Alley, it was just about noon. They had lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, at Skyla’s insistence, and met both the Grangers and the Weasley’s there. They spit up into a few smaller, more manageable groups. Arthur and Molly would take Ginny to get new robes, while Mama and Papa took Skyla, Percy, and the twins to get their own things. The Grangers would stay with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Once they had their little groups, they were all off, heading in different directions, with the Grangers asking Harry and Ron different questions as they made there way to Gringotts first.

“Your parents are all wizards?” Mrs. Granger asked, and Harry could see where Hermione got her curiosity. “So you both knew you could do magic growing up?”

“I did,” Ron said, looking rather uncomfortable.

“I’m adopted,” Harry told the two. “I lived with muggles- non magic people -until a few years ago.”

“What about your school?” Mr. Granger said, changing the subject. “Hermione said she was part of Gryffindor.”

“I’m a Slytherin, and Ron’s a Hufflepuff. Snake and a Badger. But I’m sure Hermione told you all about the different houses.”

They spoke for a while longer, going from shop to shop, to gather their school supplies. They went to the bookstore last, since they had seen the massive line when they had arrived and thought it best to wait it out. By the time he got there, though, it looked like the store was even more crowded then when they left. It wasn’t until they saw the banner stretched across the upper windows that they knew why.

Gilderoy Lockhart was inside, signing books.

The Grangers trailed after them, as they squeezed inside, and the three of them each grabbed a copy of _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ , before Hermione skipping off to join the winding line to meet Lockhart. Harry didn’t know what else to do, other then work his way through the crowd with Ron, to get to his parents. The older Weasley boys had gone to join Molly in the line, and they were left with only Skyla and her books. Minus Gilderoy Lockhart's books, of course.

“Do I have to get the Lockhart books?” Harry asked, eyeing the way the blond wizard that sat at the table at the far end of the shop was giving over dramatic flurisious.

“No,” Papa practically snarled. “You don’t need any books written by that… that…!”

“Gerald,” Mama scolded. “There is a time and a place…”

It was then that the man at the table on the other side of the room stood up. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the man said, waving until everyone was quiet. “What an extraordinary afternoon it has been! And I simply can not contain my excitement any more! This afternoon, the Hogwarts students who stepped inside this very shot had no idea that they will shortly be getting much more then my books, like Magical Me. They will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have the greatest pride and pleasure in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

As the majority of the people in the room cheered, Harry looked up at his parents. They had looks of complete disgust on their faces. They didn’t wait very long before they were making their way towards the doors. Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione on the way out, and followed his parents and sister back to the floo area to head home.

Once they were again in the walls of their home, Papa turned to Harry and Skyla sternly. “I will find you both books on defense to take to school. I don’t care what Dumbledore is doing, hiring that fool, but I will not have your minds warped by that hacks words!”

Harry blinked, but quickly nodded, before Papa was striding towards the library. He didn’t know what his Papa knew about his new Defense teacher, but it couldn’t be good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy! I love a lot of what Harry does in this work, it's my favorite, over all, of the ones that I've done so far. I think there weren't as many scenes that were reworked, and the scenes I created all seemed to flow really well! So I hope you guys like reading this as much as I did writing it.


	2. The Flying Car

The rest of the summer seemed to fly by after that, with letters sent between Harry and his two friends. Apparently, after he had left, Mr. Weasley had gotten into some kind of fist fight with Mr. Malfoy. Harry hated to admit it, but he was kind of sad he had missed it. Mr. Weasley was such a kind, goofy man, and Harry just didn’t know what could have possibly set him off that way. Probably something about family and money… 

True to his word, Papa had gotten him and Skyla some defense books. Or, rather, he had owled Russel, who asked Maria LaRue for a book list. So now, instead of Lockhart’s books, Harry had three hand written books from Maria, translated from french, on things that he should know in his second year of school. He had given them a quick look through, and found that a lot of the first book was review from the second half of his first year, with a list in the back of other books that he could find in the library that could help him with the other two. 

The last day of summer, Harry and Skyla packed up their things and they had another big dinner like the year before. Not everyone was there, like last year, but it was a fancier meal then they normally had. There was even Harry’s favorite treacle tart. 

The next morning was much more relaxed as well. It was just Harry, Skyla, and their parents. Derrick wasn’t forced to come out of his brewing room, Nina was still asleep in bed, and the rest of the family were at their respective homes. When it was time to go, they got to Kings Cross nearly an hour early. Mama and Papa stood around, talking with other parents, as well as Dorian and Freya. Harry got all his stuff put away on the train, and convinced Mama to let him wait outside the barrier for Ron. 

So there Harry was, standing outside the barrier at a quarter-till, wondering where on earth Ron was. His friend was extremely late. The entire Weasley clan was, actually. But they showed, just in time, and were quickly hurrying through the barrier. 

“You didn’t have to wait,” Ron said, as they both took hold of Ron’s trolley and started to push forward. 

“I wanted to,” Harry said, right before they crashed into the solid wall. The trolley tipped, Ron’s rat cage falling over, and Scabbers giving a panicked sound. People turned to look at them, muttering about children, as a guard came over to check on them, not at all impressed. 

“Why can’t we get through?” Harry asked in a whisper when the guard was gone. 

“I don’t know,” Ron said, looking around wildly as a few people continued to stare at them. “But we’re going to miss the train. I don’t understand why the gateway sealed itself.” 

Carefully, Harry righted the cart, smiling nervously at the people watching while Ron went to pick up Scabbers cage. He rolled it forward, slowly enough that it wouldn’t clang and purposefully enough that it looked like he was trying to give others more room to get by, Harry tried once more to get through the barrier. It was still sealed, and they didn’t have long left. Was something or someone trying to stop them from getting through? 

“It’s gone,” Ron said softly, stunned. “The train’s left. What if Mum and Dad can’t get back through to us? You got any Muggle money?” 

Nervously, Harry pulled out a few pounds that Mama had given him to get some candy from a machine nearby. “It’s not much. We should probably go wait outside, so we don’t accidently draw attention when people start coming out.” 

“We could probably wait by the…” Suddenly, Ron’s mouth dropped open, eyes gleaming. “Harry! The car!” 

“The car?” 

Ron was already turning around, pushing his trolley back towards the entrance in quick, hurried steps. Harry hurried after him, confused. What car? The Weasley's probably had one, Harry knew, but what did that have to do with getting to Hogwarts? 

“Dad modified it to fly,” Ron whispered as they were loading Ron’s things into the trunk. “We can fly it to Hogwarts. I mean, we’re stuck, right? And we’ve got to get to school, don’t we? Even underage wizards can use magic if it’s a real emergency.” 

“But our parents,” Harry said, frowning. “Won’t they be worried? We can wait for them to come back out, then floo to my brother Quinn’s in Hogsmeade, right? I mean, we might even be early in that case…” 

“Mum and Dad were planning to floo back to the Burrow, anyway. Dad has to be to work, and Mum doesn’t like the car. She was going to make Dad come back for it tomorrow. And your parents are going to floo home anyway.” 

Harry felt his nerves fade away. Ron was right. His own parents likely wouldn’t be coming out through the barrier. Now that he thought about it, a lot of parents wouldn’t. And if Ron’s parents weren’t coming out for the car… 

“Can you fly it?” 

“No problem,” Ron said, a wide grin on his face as they both slid into the front seats. “Check that no one’s watching.” 

With a glance, Harry found that they were in the clear. Ron pressed a little silver button on the dashboard, and the car vanished. And so did they. Then, with a pop, they reappeared. Ron groaned, and had Harry keep smashing the button until they were high into the sky, tucked behind thick clouds. Thankfully, the skys were full of them, and they could peek down to check for the train through the breaks. 

They followed the train north, and for a while, it was quite exciting. The wheels of the car would skim the top of the clouds, and Harry could sometimes reach out as if to touch them, though they were very cold. They ate the toffees that were hidden away in the glove compartment, joking about what would happen when they landed. Harry figured they could land in Hogsmeade and sneak in to join the rest of the students off the train. 

But after hours and hours, they began to grow tired and bored. It was hot, the sun blazing down on them, and thirsty from all the candy. Harry had taken his coat off, his shirt sticking to his back as he pulled at the front to try and woft air through his shirt. Every once in a while, Harry would reach out the window, get his hand cold with the water of the clouds, and wipe it across his face to cool himself down. 

“Can’t be to much further, can it?” Ron asked, his voice hoarse from thirst, as the sun began to sink below the horizon. 

A dip below the clouds showed the tiny and faint glow of Hogsmeade ahead of them in the dim beneath the clouds. It couldn’t be more then another hour to Hogsmeade. They they could land and rejoin the other students. They could go into the castle and have something to drink. No one would even know that they had taken the car. 

Only, the car began to whine. Harry exchanged a glance with Ron, who looked just as nervous as Harry felt. They ignored the whining as it began to grow louder. As stars began to bloom in the darkening sky, Harry pulled his coat back on, and pointedly ignored the way the windshield wipers were waving in what looked like protest. 

They dipped below the clouds once more, beaming when they saw the lights of Hogsmeade right below them. They could even see Hogwarts castle off to the right. Quickly, Ron reached for the brakes, only for the car to give a violent shudder, and veer dangerously to the side. Harry’s hands flew out, grabbing at anything he could, to hold on as Ron tried to regain control. 

“Stop!” Ron yelled, pulling out his wand to try and get the car to work again. “No, no, no!” 

With a loud clank, the engine sputtered and died completely. 

Ron fumbled with the wheel, trying and failing to gain control. 

“Ron!” Harry said, his heart in his throat as scrambled to brace himself. “The tree!  _ The tree _ !” 

It was to late, and the car crashed into the top of a tree with a loud crunch. They sat in silence for a moment, to shocked at the fact they had somehow survived. Harry was blinking, eyes wide as felt his head throb for where it had hit the hard back of the seat. Next to him, Ron let out a low groan of despair. 

“You okay?” Harry asked, swallowing as he tried to blink away the dazed from hitting his head. 

“My wand,” Ron whimpered in a shaky voice. “Look at my wand…” 

When Harry turned to look, he saw that Ron’s wand had been snapped in half, barely holding together by only a few splinters. And then, over Ron’s shoulder, he watched as a tree branch moved, twisted, really, and slammed into the side of Ron’s door. They both screamed, another branch coming to bash against Harry’s door. They both went reaching for their doors, desperate to get out, as the roof dented in towards them. Another smack to Ron’s door, and the red head was practically thrown into Harry’s lap. 

Then, a miracle. The car gave a hum, and the engine restarted. Moving quick, Harry threw his hand out, shifting gears and kicking out his leg to stomp on the gas pedal. The car shot backward, narrowly missing them as they landed with a thump on the ground, jarring them, but Harry kept his foot on the gas until they were far enough from the tree that it couldn’t reach them. 

They both panted, turning to look at one another as they tried to figure out just what had happened. Before either of them could speak, the doors to the car were suddenly flung open and Harry found himself on the wet grass. With a pop, Ron’s things were being shot out of the trunk, Scabbers squeaking in protest as his cage was thrown into Ron’s arms. Then, dented and smoking, the car rumbled off into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest with a bang of the exhaust. 

“Wait!” Ron wailed. “Dad’s gonna kill me!” 

“Come on,” Harry said, picking up one end of the trunk. “We’d better get up to the school.” 

The two of them trudged up to the castle, each carrying an end of Ron’s trunk. They made it to the steps, where all the students things were piled up, and Harry could even see his own trunk in one of the corners. They moved Ron’s to sit by one they were fairly sure was Jasper’s, and moved to peek into the door of the Great Hall. 

The sorting had just started, the tables not yet full of food, but still full of students. Harry could make of a few of his friends and family at the different tables, and he could pick out Ron’s sister Ginny in the crowd of anxious looking first years. The Sorting Hat sat on the stool, getting ready to sort all the students. But what really caught Harry’s eye was the staff table. 

“Hang on,” Harry said, reaching out to hold onto Ron’s sleeve. “There’s an empty chair at the staff table. Where’s Snape?” 

“Maybe he’s left,” Ron said hopefully, though Harry wasn’t sure why he expected anything else. “Because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again. Or, he’s been sacked! I mean, everyone hates him-” 

“Or maybe,” a cold voice said behind them, “he’s waiting to see why you two didn’t arrive on the school train.” 

Turning around, Harry stared up at his head of house. Professor Snape looked down his hooked nose at them, eyes narrowed with displeasure. While Snape wasn’t Ron’s favorite teacher, Harry had a deep respect for the man. Once Snape had set aside Harry’s original background, the professor had been quite pleasant to Harry. He had even done everything in his power to protect Harry from Quirrell the year before. 

“Follow me,” Snape said, voice cold as he led them back towards the entrance hall, then down towards the dungeons and his office. “In!” 

The two of them were quickly seated in chairs. It was colder then the last time Harry had been in there. Much, much colder. The fireplace was dark, empty of the warmth that Harry normally saw there during his visits to this office. Harry watched, barely glancing up from his hands, as Snape moved to scowl down at them. 

“Sir,” Ron tried. 

“Silence!” Snape snapped coldly, picking up an issue of the Evening Prophet. He tossed it onto the tabled in front of them, letting them see the headline.  _ Flying Ford Anglia Mystifies Muggles _ . “You were seen. Six or seven Muggles. At  _ least _ . I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?” With a tut, Snape sneered at Ron. “Dear me… and his own son…” 

Harry felt his stomach roll. He hadn’t thought about what would happen if anyone found out that Mr. Weasley had bewitched the car. It would be serious… 

“Sir,” Harry said, drawing Snape’s dark eyes to himself. 

“Why is it, Alistair, that your things arrived on the train, but you did not?” 

“It was the barrier,” Harry said quickly, taking the chance to explain. “I got there early, so I put all my stuff on the train and went to wait for Ron outside. But then, when he got there, and we tried to get in, the barrier had closed and we didn’t know what to do. Neither of our parents were going to be coming out that way, so we had no way of telling them what had happened. So we went back to the car, and...Well…” 

“I see,” Snape sneered. “Well, Alistair, it looks like you will be having a much similar year to last. You’ll be serving detentions with me: Monday's, Wednesday's, and Friday’s.” 

“Yes sir,” Harry said, glad that he wasn’t expelled. 

“And Weasley,” Snape snarled. “You’ll have to see Professor Sprout for your punishment. For now, go to your common room. She will meet you there.” Ron quickly slipped out of the office. “A letter will be sent to your parents, Alistair, and I doubt that your mother will be pleased. Now, off to the dorm with you. The password is Fleamont.” 

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, and hurried out of the room. He wasn’t feeling very hungry anymore. 


	3. Parental Disapproval and Defense Disasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I meant to post this days ago, but I got distracted! I'm so sorry! Don't worry, I'll be back on track this week!

Harry had already been asleep by the time the other boys had joined him in the dorm, and Harry thought it was actually kind of funny. Once again, he had gone to bed before the end of the feast, and been asleep before his roommates had entered. He could tell that a pattern was forming. 

The next morning, Harry was met with questions and confusion, though he wasn’t sure how to answer some of them. They went up to breakfast, Harry feeling ravenous, as he sat at the Slytherin table and took his class schedule from the prefect that was passing them out. He would see Hermione in Potions, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“You could have died,” Malfoy said, scowling as Harry shoved half a biscuit into his mouth. “How are you even eating? This is serious, Alistair.” 

“I’m eating because I didn't die?” Harry told him, rather lamely. “Look, I haven’t eaten since an early lunch yesterday, aside from some toffee. And we landed in the Whomping Willow. I’m so hungry, I could eat like Crabbe and Goyle.” 

Zabini snorted, grinning into his cup as he hid it a deep drink of his morning tea. Malfoy looked like he wanted to say more, but was interrupted when sound erupted from across the room. At first, Harry thought a bomb had gone off, or that Finnigan had tried a new spell. Then, when Harry’s ears stopped ringing, he recognized the sound of Molly Weasley’s voice. 

“- _ STEALING THE CAR! I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU! YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU! I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE- _ ” 

Harry had to stuff his fingers in his ears, eyes clenched shut as Mrs. Weasley’s voice bellowed louder then Harry had ever heard it before. It seemed almost a hundred times louder then usual, making plates and utensils rattle across the tables even on the other side of the room. The ceiling even shook, sending dust down as people were standing to see just who had gotten the shouting letter. 

“- _ LETTER FROM PROFESSOR SPROUT LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME! WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS! YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE DIED _ !” 

His cheeks turned scarlet, shame hitting him, though it was probably hitting Ron harder. He hated disappointing Mrs. Weasley, really, but if it had been from Mama? Harry probably would have just… crawled under the table and died. Oh, god, he wasn’t going to get a letter like that, was he?

“- _ ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK! IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT EVEN ONE TOE OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BE BRINGING YOU STRAIGHT HOME _ !” 

There was silence once again, Harry feeling his ears ringing as he shuddered. A few people were beginning to laugh, and Harry could see through the throng of students to where Ron was sat, his head on the table. People were beginning to whisper, babbling and gossiping. 

There was a slight pause, as Siren, his families owl, swooped down and balanced on his goblet. Her eyes pierced into Harry, a letter in her beak, and looking at Harry with absolute disappointment. She flew off once he took the envelope, everyone peering at him curiously, and some even plugging their ears. 

When the letter opened, though, hovering just in front of Harry, it didn’t explode with Mama’s cries. It was Papa’s voice, not at ear splitting volume, but instead a low rumbling growl. 

“ _ Harrison James Alistair, words cannot convey my disappointment. You had your mother worried to tears. I hope you’re happy _ .” 

As the letter burst into flames, the ash falling to the table, Harry felt anything but happy. He almost wished he had gotten a Howler from Mama instead. Hearing Papa, who rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, at just barely above a whisper? Harry was almost to tears, he was so disappointed in himself. 

“Come on, Alistair,” Zabini said, nudging Harry with his elbow. “It’s not that bad, right? I mean, it could be worse.” 

“No you can’t,” Harry said, pushing his plate away. He wasn’t feeling as hungry anymore. “I’m heading to Transfiguration…” 

XxXXxX

Harry wrote a letter during lunch. An apology letter, to his parents, about why what he did was wrong, and why he was going to stay out of trouble this year, and how he was sorry. Hermione even helped him. She checked his spelling, and his grammar, and even though Malfoy was telling him that he was being ridiculous, Harry had the perfect letter to send to his parents. 

After lunch, they had double Potions, once again with Gryffindor, and Harry eagerly sat with Hermione again. The Slytherin’s didn’t scorn him for it, this time, and he had quite the pleasant class with her. Until, that is, Hermione started to gush about Lockhart, since she had Defense next. Harry didn’t tell her about his own Defense study that he would be doing, and instead just bottled the potion they had been working on. 

“Have you heard from Flint yet?” Malfoy asked later, when they were sitting at dinner. 

“No,” Harry said, looking up from his meal to raise a brow at Malfoy. “Why?” 

“He wants on the team,” Zabini said off handedly. “Your sister left a spot open, and he really wants it.” 

“I can’t get you on the team,” Harry said, shocked. “You have to try out, like everyone else!” 

“I’m not asking you to tell Flint to put me on the team,” Malfoy snapped. “I’m just asking that you put in a good word for me. You owe me a favor from last year, remember?” 

Harry scowled. He had promised Malfoy a favor. And he had intended to hold up his end of the deal. 

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “I’ll put in a word with Flint for you. But that’s it. That’s your favor.” 

Malfoy didn’t look to disappointed, and only nodded. 

Once Harry was done with his dinner, he went down to the Potions classroom to serve his first detention of the year with Snape. It was a quiet detention, with Harry scrubbing cauldrons or sweeping the floors for two hours. When he was dismissed, it was nearly curfew, and Harry fell face first into his bed, sleeping easily. 

XxXXxX

“Alistair,” Flint said the next morning, as Harry was making his way to his afternoon Defense class. “I need a minute.” 

“I’m on my way to Defense,” Harry said, almost guiltily. “Can it wait until dinner?” 

“No,” Flint said, moving to walk beside Harry instead. “I’ve been working on our team. And I think I need to cut everyone from last year. Only, you’re a good Seeker, so you’re staying on.” 

For a second, Harry’s steps faltered. He stared at Flint, wondering what was going through the teens head, because that was a  _ terrible  _ idea. It was Flint’s first year as a solo captain, and they had a pretty good team last year, at least in Harry’s opinion. Harry had never really liked Flint, he was to angry looking and rude, but not until this moment did Harry think he was stupid. 

“I need a second, to,” Flint was saying. “So I figured that I would take you, since you’ll be around a while either way. And you need to make up for missing our last match last year, costing us the cup.” 

“What?” Harry said, deadpan. 

“A co-captain,” Flint said. “But you’re only a second year, so you’re more like my second set of eyes. You got a good pair. You’ll help me pick out the new team and keep an eye on the strategies that I come up with to see if they work.” 

This is a terrible idea, Harry wanted to say, staring up at Flint. This is a terrible idea, and do you remember how hard it was for you to find a good team last year, from scratch? Nina would strangle you if she knew what you were doing. You are an idiot. 

“Great,” Flint said as he started to walk way. “Nine in the morning. Saturday. We start tryouts!” 

Harry stared after their new Captain. The boy was an idiot. How on earth did Flint, idiot of idiots, get put as Captain? He didn’t say anything as he dropped into his seat in Defense, ending up by Malfoy. Zabini and Nott were seated in front of them, with Crabbe and Goyle behind them. The girls were mostly on the other side of the room, not bothering with them. 

Once Harry was seated, the last to do so, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly. Silence fell, and he reached forward to pick up Nott’s copy of  _ Wandering with Werewolves _ . He held it up, showing his own winking portrait on the front. 

“Me,” he said, pointing to his portrait and giving a wink of his own. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by  _ smiling  _ at her!” 

Lockhart seemed to pause, as if he was waiting for them to laugh. He got a few eye rolls and a snort instead. 

“I see most of you have bought a complete set of my books,” he continued, before tutting at Harry. “How disappointing. But well done to the rest of you. I thought we would start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about. Just to to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’re taken in.” 

There was a moment as the man handed out test papers. Once everyone had one, Lockhart returned to the front of the room and told them to begin. Harry decided he would give Lockhart, as arrogant and pompous as he was, a chance, and looked over the questions. It was all questions about Lockhart. All of it, stupid questions about his professors favorite color, or Lockhart's birthday, or his favorite food. 

Gritting his teeth, Harry turned to the last of the three pages-  _ Three pages _ ! -and added his own question at the bottom. 

  1. _Does any of these have to do with learning how to defend yourself? No._



With that, Harry signed his name at the top and turned it face down on his desk. Malfoy shot him a look of confusion, but Harry just pulled out the book from Maria La’Rue. 

It took barely five minutes to read about Cornish Pixies, so he moved on to reading about the Disarming Charm. He mouthed the incantation to himself, focused solely on the elegant scrawl of Maria’s writing, as he leaned back in his seat. The hand movement was sharp, quick. Expelliarmus… 

“Tut tut,” Lockhart said after collecting the papers, making Harry look up. “Hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in  _ Year with the Yeti _ . And a few of you need to read  _ Wanderings with Werewolves _ more carefully. I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!” There was a pause as Lockhart looked down at one of the papers, Harry returning to his book. “Mr. Alistair! Why, you didn’t even try!” 

“That’s because I only care about learning from a competent teacher,” Harry said, not even looking up. “Not a hack like you.” A few of the other Slytherin’s snorted, barely holding in their giggles as Harry peered over his book to raise a brow at Lockhart. “Unless, of course, you can teach me something I can learn just as well, if not better, from a book?” 

“Why,” Lockhart spluttered. “Ten points from Slytherin! But if you are so eager to learn, then down to business!” Reaching down, Lockhart pulled a large covered cage out from behind his desk. “Now… be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.” 

Interested, Harry set aside Maria’s book, and leaned forward in his seat. The other Slytherin’s had stopped snickering, and were staring with that same intensity that Harry was. 

“I must ask you not to scream, as it might provoke them,” Lockhart said, then whipped off the cover. “Yes!  _ Freshly caught Cornish Pixies _ .” 

Harry groaned as Zabini lost control of himself. The boy let out a snort of laughter, much to clear to be mistaken as a scream of terror. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry,” Zabini said, clearly not. “But really. They aren’t that dangerous, right?” 

No, Harry wanted to say. One or two Cornish Pixies could be handled rather quickly. An entire cage? Of at least ten? That was dangerous. 

“Don’t be so sure!” Lockhart said, waggling his finger as Zabini. “Devilishly tricky little blighters they can be! So-” Oh god, Lockhart was reaching for the cage door! “Let’s see what you make of them!” 

Harry was ducking under his desk before the cage was even open. Over his head, the room was in chaos. Pixies were shooting in every direction, like tiny blue rockets. There was a crash, and Harry could see glass shards speckling the floor from where the Pixies had burst through the window. They were snatching ink bottles and spraying people with them, shredding books and papers, tearing the gaudy pictures of Lockhart off the walls. Books and bags were tossed through the smashed windows, and Harry had to smack one away with a book when it tried to take his bag. 

“Come on now!” Lockhart called from his place at the front of the chaos. “Round them up! They’re only Pixies!” 

Harry wanted to curse the man. He thought, trying to come up with an idea, and thought about all the spells he knew. Meanwhile, Lockhart had his wand snatched and tossed out the window. And then the bastard left them to clean up his mess! 

Standing up Harry brandished his wand, and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Lumos Solem!” 

The Pixies were immediately drawn to look at him at the noise. The ones caught in Harry’s beam of light gave pained shrieks as their eyes were blinded, falling to the floor. The others were so dazed by the brightness that they stopped and made high confused sounds. Either way, they had stopped, and the Slytherin’s started snatching them out of the air and off the floor to shove them back into their cage. 

“Alistair,” Malfoy said as they were all hurrying out of the classroom. “That book you had. Is it as Defense book?” 

Harry blinked at him, and snorted. “I’ll see what I can do.” 


	4. The Slytherin Team

“I can’t believe he did that,” Ron gasped as they sat with Hermione in the library. “Your dad is right, Harry. The guy is a total fraud.” 

“He just wanted to give you hands on experience,” Hermione said, turning the page in whatever Lockhart book she was reading. “And, really Harry. You shouldn’t have disrespected him like that. Even if Mr. Alistair says those things.” 

“Hands on?” Harry hissed. “Hermione, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He ran and hid while we cleaned up his mess.” 

“Rubbish. Haven’t you read his books? Look at all the amazing things he’s done-” 

“He says he’s done,” Ron muttered, and Hermione let out a sigh. 

“I just don’t think he’s a good teacher,” Harry said to Hermione, deciding to humor her instead of argue. “He may be an outstanding wizard-” Ron covered his mouth to hide a snort. “-but I don’t think teaching is his calling. He should be out there. Doing what he does best. But I’ll try not to say anything rude.” 

While she didn’t look pleased, Hermione was ready to accept that was all she was going to get out of him. Harry waited a moment, then pulled out the books Maria had made for him. Ron was instantly interested, since they clearly weren’t school books, with there soft black leather backs and silver trim. They almost looked like diaries, actually...

“Hermione,” Harry said, carefully. “Do you know a spell to duplicate these? To make, say, three or four more copies?” 

“I don’t,” she said, looking up from her book again. “But I can find one. Why? What are those for?” 

“They’re from Dorian’s girlfriend. Er… Fiancee? Anyway, she’s the Defense teacher at the french wizarding school, and she sent these to help with Defense this year. It’s how I knew what to do with the Pixies. Well, some of the Slytherin’s were wondering if they could use them to?” 

She gave him a skeptical look, frowning slightly. “I can make a few copies. But you have to promise to pay attention to Professor Lockhart’s class, to.” 

Harry smiled, giving her a few quick nods, and pushed the books towards her. He didn’t need them at the moment. He would be able to ask an upperclassman for help with spell casting if he couldn’t get the Disarming Spell down. So he let Hermione stuff them in her bag and start looking for a duplicating spell in one of her many books. 

XxXXxX

When Saturday rolled up, Harry was not eager to be up so early and trudge down to the pitch with Flint. He was even less eager when he saw the Gryffindor team flying overhead. 

As the Gryffindor team was touching down, probably to come see what the hell was going on, Slytherin’s from all years were starting to flood down from the castle, most carrying brooms. The Gryffindor Captain, Oliver Wood, was stomping up to them with a scowl clear on his face. 

“Flint!” the other Captain bellowed. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!” 

Flint gave an almost trollish smile. “Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.” 

There clearly wasn’t. To many Slytherin’s had come down for tryouts, and Harry could barely make out Malfoy in the back. This was clearly a move to disrupt Gryffindor’s first training session. Harry kind of wished Nina hadn’t graduated, so she could keep Flint from doing these kinds of things. Harry was sure that it was going to be a consistent thing throughout the year. 

“But I booked the field!” Wood spat with rage. “I booked it!” 

“But I’ve got got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape.” And then Flint was pulling out said note. “‘ _ I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to use the Quidditch field today, owing to the need to hold tryouts for the team _ .” 

“Tryouts?” Wood balked, turning to sweep his eyes over the group of gathered Slytherin’s. It was practically half their house. “For what? The entire team?” 

“Nearly,” Harry said, drawing Wood’s attention. He looked up at the older boy with tired eyes. “Flint thought it would be a good idea to scrap almost the entire team, instead of just find a new Chaser to take Nina’s place.” 

“Well, why’d you do that?” Skyla said, frowning at Flint, though it was more of a pout. “Nina worked hard to make a good team. Why mess it all up?” 

“Because Hughes isn’t Captain anymore,” Flint snapped, and Harry held back a groan. “Now off the field! We’ve got claim now, and you all need to scram.” 

Wood looked like he wanted to keep fighting, but the Weasley twins placed a hand on either of his shoulders and pushing the older student toward the exit. Skyla gave Harry a sad little wave as she passed, and Harry returned it with a strained smile. It was probably going to be a long morning. 

“Alright, Alistair,” Flint said, hopping onto his broom. “You fly up high to take notes. Beaters first!” 

A very,  _ very _ long morning. 

XxXXxX

Harry spent the entire morning sitting sideways on his broom, looking down at different groups trying out for different positions. Flint decided to let each group take an hour, which Harry thought was far to long, and Harry found himself yawning and his head drooping within the first fifteen minutes of observing the Beaters. 

He, personally, had already made his choice. While Lucian Bole hadn’t come back to re-tryout for the team, Peregrine Derrick had. The boy was big, and strong, and while he wasn’t the best flier, he could hit a Bludger like a star baseball player could hit a home run. And while Jack Williams wasn’t as good as Bole, his size and strength could make up for it with a bit of training.

Picking a Keeper was a bit harder. Miles Bletchley had been good, since he was big enough to have a farther reach of the goal he was in, but also small enough to move fast between them. He had had skill to, of course, but he had refused to return when Flint told him he would have to tryout again. There was no one with Bletchley’s skill set, but Jane Sparrow was pretty good. She didn’t have a very far reach, but she was fast. Very fast. Her speed definitely made up for the loss in reach. 

Finding new Chaser’s was shockingly easy. Well, not as easy as finding Beaters, but still pretty easy. Adrian Pucey hadn’t come back either, but Harry had been expecting that. The older boy didn’t like Flint, and had told Harry at the end of the previous year that he wasn’t planning in coming back while Flint was in charge. Harry had tried to convince him to stay, he actually kind of liked Pucey, but then Flint had pulled this stunt and Pucey had quit. Graham Montague would have to be a replacement. He wasn’t quite as good as Pucey, but he was better then most of the people trying out. And while no one could match Nina’s skill, in Harry’s opinion, he had to admit that Malfoy was amazing on a broom. Clearly, the boy had been practicing since Harry last saw him on one. 

Once everyone had been up in the air, Flint had sent the students all back inside as Harry came down. The two of them walked back to the castle to talk over lunch. They sat at the end, away from most of the students, so they could talk privately. 

“We need to bring Derrick back,” Harry said as he tapped at his paper notes with his quill. “He’s good. And we can’t risk losing him. He could train the other new Beater while you’re busy with the other Chasers.” 

“Agreed,” Flint said, and Harry almost sighed in relief. “Who else?” 

“Jack Williams,” Harry said. “He’s big and he hits hard. Not as good as Bole, but a little training could sort that out.” 

“Good. Chasers?” 

“Graham Montague and Draco Malfoy.” 

“I get Montague. But Malfoy? He’s small. Almost as small as you, Alistair.” 

“But he’s good,” Harry pressed, tapping impatiently at his paper. “His size is an advantage here. It gives him a chance to slip by people, lets him go faster.” 

Flint scowled, but eventually caved. “What about the Keeper?” 

Harry didn’t hesitate. “Jane Sparrow.” 

Flint didn’t hesitate either. “No.” 

“What?” Harry balked, staring up at the older boy. “Why not? She’s good. Fast. She can guard the goal better then the others could, and that’s what’s important, right?” 

“Don’t care,” Flint said. “Who else? Someone more like Bletchley.” 

“There isn’t anyone else!” Harry said, throwing his hands up. “If you wanted Bletchley, you should have just left the team as it was! Sparrow is our best bet, thanks to you, you stupid, idiotic, moron of a-” 

“Is there a problem here?” Snape said as he appeared behind them.

“Flint asked me to watch tryouts and help pick the new team,” Harry said instantly. “But he won’t let Jane Sparrow on the team! He won’t even consider it!” 

One of Snape’s brows rose, nearly to his hairline, as he turned to look down at Flint. The Quidditch Captain didn’t flinch, but it looked like he wanted to. 

“And why, Mr. Flint, do you refuse to consider Miss Sparrow? Based on your grades from last term, I am confident in saying that Mr. Alistair has a better eye for detail then yourself. Not only that, but he has quite the famous Keeper in his family that I’m sure he has learned something from.” 

Flint scowled, and looked away. He clearly didn’t want to say, but Snape tutted, as though his suspicions were confirmed. 

“Twenty points from Slytherin, Mr. Flint, for your sexist agenda. You will also be serving weekend detentions with me for the next three weeks.” Then, Snape turned to Harry. “Mr. Alistair, please go post the new team roster on the board in the Common Room.” 

And with that, Snape was turning, walking back to wherever he had come from. Harry didn’t hesitate, and quickly got up from his seat to walk back to the Slytherin Common Room. He had to pause, though, as Hermione stopped him to give him four sets of duplicated books, along with the original. Each duplicate set was tied together with a red bit of ribbon, while Harry’s were tied with a gold one. Gryffindor colors. He couldn’t help but laugh at that, as he went to pin the Quidditch Roster to the bulletin board in the Common Room. 

Harry made his way back to the dorm, the stacks of books under his arm, and undid the ties on the originals to start reading again. He had done pretty well with the Disarming Spell when he tried it. He had gotten Pucey to help him, so he moved on to reading about Banshees. 

Harry was just finishing up the section, about to move on to Tongue Tying Curse, when Malfoy came striding into the dorm. He was looking rather pleased with himself, so Harry guessed he had seen the board. 

“Alistair!” he said, a wide grin spreading on his face. “I see you put in a word with Flint.” 

“No,” Harry said. “I watched you at tryouts. You’re pretty good, Malfoy. Not as good as Nina, but we’ll get you there. I have a copy of the books for you.” 

“Books?” Malfoy asked, turning to look at the tall stack of books Harry now had by his bed. “Oh! The defense books. You managed to make duplicates?” 

Harry chuckled, getting to pluck one set up by the ribbon and hold it out to Malfoy. “Nah, I can’t do anything like that yet. Hermione did it for me. She’s brilliant like that.” 

While Malfoy did take the books, his face had contorted into a strange expression. Worry? Disgust? Harry couldn’t tell. 

“You’re still hanging around with that Gryffindor mudblood?” Malfoy asked, nose scrunching. 

For a second, Harry just gaped at the blond. Then, without thinking, his arm came up and slapped Malfoy across the face with the leather book still in his hand. The resounding smack was quite satisfying. 

“Ah!” Malfoy cried out, as Harry turned to dig in his trunk. “Alistair! What the hell?” 

Harry practically snarled, shoving the book about Salazar Slytherin into Malfoy’s chest. He had forgotten to take it out at the end of last year, and it had been stuck at the bottom of his trunk when he had repacked. 

“Educate yourself, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “You might learn some tolerance.” 

And with that, Harry stomped out of the dorm room to go find somewhere to cool off. 


	5. Invitations and New Friends

Harry went to the owlery. He didn’t have Honavi or Nikoa with him this year. They had wanted to stay back with their nestmates, at least until winter when Harry visited home, and so only Hedwig had come with him to Hogwarts. 

“He’s such an idiot,” Harry told the owl as she sat on his knee, letting him pet her soft feathers. “Just when I’m starting to think he’s different…” 

Harry knew what the word meant. He’d come across it in a few of the books in his families library, but he came across it the most in the Slytherin book. Salazar himself had coined the term, during the war with muggles, but it had a different meaning back then. It was something that the traitors of wizardkind had been called, weather they were pure, half, or muggleborn. Any of the wizards that betrayed the wizarding world, like telling muggles secret village locations, was called a mudblood, a filthy blood traitor. In the centuries since then, it had changed to be an insult to muggleborns. 

With a sigh, Harry paused for a moment to find the quill and stack of parchment that was always in the owlery. He would have to tell Mama and Papa, before they heard about it from the Malfoys. He would be in trouble again, but it was better then how much trouble he would be in if they found out from someone else. 

Once he had the letter written, Harry gave it to Hedwig, who gave an affectionate nip to his fingers before flying off into the darkening sky. It was then that Harry realized how late it was. He was going to miss dinner, though he wasn’t exactly hungry. 

Dusting off his clothes, Harry started to make his way back down the castle to the Great Hall. He could probably find a spot far from Malfoy, so he didn’t have to deal with him again. Unless, of course, Malfoy had learned something from the man that he claimed to admire. 

“ _ Come, _ ” a voice suddenly said, ice cold, chilling Harry to the bone. “ _ Come to me… _ ” 

“Hello?” Harry said, looking around in shock as he tried to try and find who was speaking. 

“ _ Let me rip you, _ ” it said again. “ _ Let me tear you… Let me kill you… _ ” 

Harry sucked in a breath, whipping around to look for someone, anyone, who could be speaking. Was it a joke? Was someone playing a sick joke on him? Peeves? The Weasley twins? No, even this was to far for them. 

“Are you alright, lad?” 

Harry whipped around, his heart in his throat as he turned to stare at the ghost floating behind him. It was only Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. With a shudder, Harry tried to calm his fast beating heart. 

“I’m fine,” Harry said, then looked up at the ghost. “Er… Are  _ you  _ alright?” 

“Ah,” Nearly Headless Nick sighed, though he waved it off with a hand. “A matter of no importance… It’s not as though I really wanted to join… Thought I’d apply, but apparently I ‘don’t fulfill requirements’.” His tone was airy, as though he really didn’t care about whatever he was talking about, but then he suddenly erupted. “But you would think, wouldn’t you, taht getting hit forty five time in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt!” 

“Oh, uh… Yes.” 

“I mean, nobody wishes more then I do that it had been quick and clean, and my head come off properly. It would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. But half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on! Most people would think that’s good and beheaded, but oh, no! It’s not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated Podmore!” 

The ghost let out a breath, and Harry did feel a bit sorry for him. It was clear that the Headless Hunt meant a lot to Nick. But Harry couldn’t do anything for the ghost. It’s not like he could cut off the rest of a ghosts head. 

“I wish there was something I could do for you,” Harry said, honestly. 

But Nick was looking at him rather curiously. He seemed to be studying Harry, like he was trying to place where he had seen him before. “Oh, I am so sorry, lad. But what did you say your name was?” 

“I didn’t,” Harry said, as smile starting to form. “I’m Harrison Alistair. Call me Harry.” 

“Alistair?” Nick gasped, looking almost gleeful. “Skyla Alistair’s little brother? Why, I’ve heard all about you! Sister’s pride and joy! Told me so much about you when she came back to school her fourth year. Yes, she was very excited indeed.” 

“That does sound like Skyla…” 

“But there is something you could do for me,” Nick kept saying, sounding excited. “Harry- Oh, would I be asking too much- But no, you wouldn’t want-” 

Harry cleared his throat. “What is it?” 

“Well, next month, on Halloween, it will be my five hundredth deathday.” Nick drew himself up straighter, clearly proud of that fact. “I’ll be holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be an honor if you would attend. Skyla is welcome to come as well, and so are any of your friends, too, or course! But, I dare say, you’d rather go to the school feast?” 

“No,” Harry said. “I would love to come-” 

“My dear boy!” Nick practically squealed. “An Alistair, at my deathday party! And… Do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?” 

Frightening, Nick was not. But Harry promised anyway, and went down to catch the end of dinner. He’d tell Hermione and Ron about it tomorrow. 

XxXXxX

Only, Harry didn’t tell Hermione and Ron about it tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after that. He had gotten distracted, serving detention with Snape and going to Quidditch practice. He had to double his practice times, because most of the team practices he had to do what he could to help Sparrow with plays, since Flint refused to help her. 

It was mid October by the time he was thinking about it again. And even then, it wasn’t the deathday party that they had been talking about. 

“Malfoy just did the strangest thing,” Hermione said, as she moved to sit with Harry and Ron in the kitchens one Sunday. 

“Was he not being a downright git?” Ron asked, taking a bite of a sandwich. “Because that would be pretty strange.” 

“He stopped me in an empty corridor to say sorry?” She sounded so confused. Hermione was never confused. “And then he thanked me for some reason.” 

“Oh right,” Harry said as he looked up from the second of Maria’s books. He had been moving through them at quite the staggering pace, nearly done with most of second year Defense already. He’d have to send her an owl. Man, why couldn’t Maria be teaching his class instead of Lockhart? “He called you a mudblood when I gave him the copies of the books.” 

“ _ What _ ?!” Ron roared, jumping up out of his seat and startling most of the house elves. “He- That bastard, I’ll-!” 

“It’s okay now,” Harry said, looking over at Hermione. “I slapped him with one of Maria’s books and gave him the book about Salazar Slytherin.” 

“You gave that git that dark book?” Ron gasped. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It is in no way a ‘dark book’, Ronald. It’s actually very informative. A bit sad, when you think about how things have changed since then.” 

“Slytherin hated muggleborns! He didn’t even want them coming to Hogwarts!” 

“Not true,” Hermione said, entering her lecture mode. “Salazar Slytherin was a very worried man, who survived a war between magical and non magical. When he said he wanted only the purest of students to attend, he mostly meant he only wanted to teach students that would wizards and witches, first and foremost. He was worried about the safety of the school, if muggles learned about them again. At the time, that was mostly children from wizard families.” 

“But he still called you that word,” Ron pressed. “Aren’t you angry?” 

“I’m certainly offended,” Hermione said. “Because I know what he meant it as. But clearly he’s read the book. That’s a good thing. He apologized, probably knowing that I would tell Harry. It’s okay, Ron.” 

Ron huffed, but seemed okay to let it drop. “Anything else you forgot to tell us, Harry?” 

“Oh!” Harry said. “Yeah, actually, there is. I saw Nearly Headless Nick when I was heading down to dinner that night. I talked to him for awhile, but then he invited me to his deathday party on Halloween. He said I could bring friends with me.” 

“Really?” Hermione gasped. “Harry, I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one of those! It’ll be fascinating!” 

“What about the feast?” Ron whinged. “It’s gonna be great, and why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died, anyway? Sounds dead depressing to me…” 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own,” Harry said. “I’ll probably have tea with Snape again, like last year, so I’ll eat a big lunch and biscuits then.” 

“Ron and I can go for a little while,” Hermione said, glowering at Ron. “I want to see what a deathday party looks like, and Ron can wait a few extra minutes before going to the feast. And if you’re not interested in it, Harry, you can just leave after a half hour.” 

Harry shrugged. He had made a promise to Nick. Skyla probably wouldn’t come, but he would go. He had promised. 

XxXXxX

Later that evening, Malfoy stood awkwardly next to the armchair Harry was sitting in, and cleared his throat. He had been avoiding Harry for the last several weeks, and Harry was a bit surprised that the blond was approaching him now. Setting aside the letter he had been writing, Harry turned to look at the other Slytherin. 

“Need something?” Harry asked, voice cool and controlled, as he waited for Malfoy’s response. 

“I just-” Malfoy cleared his throat, holding the Slytherin book out to Harry. “I’m sorry. For what I said. About Granger.” 

Harry took the book from him, tracing his finger along the silver snake on the cover. “She was a bit offended, but it’s alright. She might slap you if you say it again though.” 

With a wince, Malfoy reached up to touch his cheek, as if he could still feel the sting from when Harry had slapped him with the book. “I’d rather she not slap me with one of her books… I’d like to keep my head.” 

The two of them shared a look, before they began to laugh. 

“Yeah,” Harry wheezed. “She could knock you out cold with one of her books.” 

“How does she carry all those massive tomes around?” Malfoy chuckled. “She must be able to lift even Weasley by now, carrying a weight like that all day.” 

“She’s stronger then she looks.” 

The two of them continued to talk, until it was time for curfew. Harry had a feeling that he and Malfoy would finally start to get along. Maybe, just maybe, they could actually be friends this time. 


	6. Deathday and Halloween Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today! A present from me to you all!

Snape had, indeed, invited Harry to tea on Halloween. It was a Saturday, so they had it with lunch instead, while they talked about different things. Mostly Harry’s classes. 

“I hear you’ve been ignoring Lockhart during your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons,” Snape said as he sipped his tea. “Have you given up on the subject?” 

“No,” Harry said, eating another sandwich. It was his third one, but didn’t want to be hungry later. “Actually, Maria LaRue sent me and Skyla a few handwritten lesson books. I’m sure Jasper and Marissa got a set, to, but I’ve nearly finished with what seems to be the entirety of second year.” 

“LaRue? The french professor? My, you are getting ahead, aren’t you. And I’m sure that you’re learning more from those books then you’ll learn from Lockhart in a lifetime. The man is a complete fraud.” 

“That’s what Papa says. Calls Lockhart a fool. Mama has to calm him down every time he hears Lockhart’s name.” 

“And right he is.” There was a pause, and Harry waited. He knew that these little tea sessions on Halloween weren’t really for him. It was for Snape. The man knew his birth mother, maybe even loved her, and was clear that the man still grieved. “You look so much like your father… But you have your mothers eyes…” 

“I know,” Harry said, voice soft. “Hagrid told me that last year.” 

“Yes, I’m sure he did…” 

“Would you like to tell me about her?” Harry asked. “About Lily Evans?” 

Snape let out a breath, and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “Lily… She was brilliant, you know. She had a way with charms, the smartest in our year. No one compared to her talent in the class, but she was good at nearly everything else, and so very kind, but still strong. You’re very much like her, in that way. You’re kind, even to those who might not deserve it, and when you see others being unkind, you’re ready to hand out punishment for their cruelty.” 

“She sounds like she was amazing.” 

“She was…” 

They sat in silence for a while, drinking the last of the tea in a companionable silence. Once it was gone, Harry said goodbye to the professor and went to his Common Room to check if Maria had owled him back yet. He was on the last two sections of her book, just reading up on Grildylows and practicing the Melofors Jinx, so he would need a new set soon. 

He spent a few hours finishing up his homework for the week. Not the stuff from Lockhart, of course. There was no way he was reading Voyages with Vampires, no matter what Hermione said. Harry would rather die. 

When seven o’clock rolled up, Harry met with Ron and Hermione in the hallway and made their way down to Nearly Headless Nick’s party. There were candles lining the floor, leading the way to the deathday party. With each step deeper, the temperature seemed to drop, though Harry hadn’t noticed until Ron and Hermione were pulling their coats tightly around themselves. When they were just around a corner from the door, they could hear what sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Is that supposed to be music?” Ron asked in a whisper. Harry only shushed him as they reached a doorway with dark velvet drapes, where Nick was waiting. 

“My dear friends,” the ghost said, voice soft and mournful. “Welcome, welcome… So pleased you could come…” 

He bowed to them as they entered the room, and Harry looked around with great interest at the room. It was full of hundreds of translucent people, drifting around a crowded dance floor. Many were waltzing to the trembling sound of musicals saws, played by an orchestra on a raised platform. Their breath rose in misty clouds up to the chandelier holding a thousand more black candles overhead.

They set off around the edge of the dance floor, passing a group of gloomy looking nuns and a ragged man wearing chains. There were a few ghosts Harry recognized though, like the Fat Friar and the Bloody Baron. He wasn’t surprised that the latter of the two was given a wide berth, even by the other ghosts. 

“Oh no,” Hermione suddenly breathed. “Turn back, turn back… I don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle.” 

“Who?” Harry asked as the were quickly backtracked to the other side of the room. 

“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls bathroom on the first floor.” 

“She haunts a toilet?” 

“Yes, though its been out of order all year. She keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway, if I could avoid it. It’s awful trying to pee with her wailing at you.” 

Harry nodded, and observed the room. He was curious about where all these ghosts had come from. Had all of them died like Nearly Headless Nick? Horrible and gruesome? It was a dark thought, but Harry was curious. He got separated from Ron and hermione, as Ron went to inspect what looked to be a table of rotting food, and Hermione got accosted by the cheeky and colorful Peeves. Harry could clearly see them through the ghosts, but he was more interested in walking around. 

“A living child,” woman's voice said to his left, and Harry turned to find a woman floating towards him. She was in a dress with an apron, and her hair pulled up into a bonnet. While she was just as translucent as the other ghosts, she was a much darker color, as if covered in soot. She circled him, looking him up and down with strange eyes that seemed to flicker in the light. “What is a living child doing here?” 

“I’m a student here,” Harry explained, blinking up at here. “My name is Harrison Alistair. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Alistair,” she said wistfully. “Oh, but you can’t be. I can’t be so lucky.” 

“Ma’am?” 

“Claudia Alistair,” she told him. “I am the Burning Witch, from Salem.” She let out a sigh, sad and mournful as she did another circle around Harry. “I was one of the first to burn… Sent up in flames… My husband, oh my dear Tyeson… He barely escaped with our boys… My boys, my sweet boys…” 

Harry watched her float off, wailing softly to herself. Not sure what else to do, Harry made his way back to Ron and Hermione, Moaning Myrtle fleeing past him with Peeves on her tail. With a glance over his shoulder at the two ghosts, Harry turned to his friends. 

“Oh dear,” Hermione sighed. 

Before he could ask her what was wrong, Nearly Headless Nick was floating over to them. 

“Enjoying yourselves?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, not actually lying. “I think I just met one of my ancestors.” 

“The Burning Witch?” Nick said, sounding proud. “She almost didn’t come. She just had her three hundredth deathday party, back in February. It’s nearly time for my speech, though, so I’d better go and warn the orchestra-” 

The orchestra stopped, however, at that very moment. The room fell silent, most looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded. Nick, however, didn’t look the least bit pleased as a dozen or so ghosts burst through the dungeon wall, riding ghost horses. Each of the riders were headless, and the guests all began to clap wildly. 

For a moment, the horses galloped around the center of the dance floor, before halting and rearing back. The leader of the pack of ghosts was a rather large ghost, who held his bearded head under his arm, where he was blowing the horn. He lept off his horse, holding his head up high, making everyone laugh as he strode over to Nearly Headless Nick. Before he spoke, he smashed his head back onto his neck. 

“Nick!” he bellowed. “How are you? Head still handing in there?” 

“Welcome, Patrick,” Nick said, stiff, as the ghost clapped him on the shoulder. 

With the most fake expression of surprise, the new ghost turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Live ‘uns!” He gave a jumps, making his head fall off onto the floor, and the crowd howled again. 

Harry could practically hear Nick rolling his eyes. “Very amusing.” 

“Don’t mind Nick!” the head said from the floor. “Still upset we won’t let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say… Look at the fellow!” 

“Nick can be very frightening,” Harry said, glowering at the ghost. “Just the other day, he gave me quite the scare. Which is more then I can say about you. You’re just a buffoon.” The ghost gaped at him in shock, looking rather offended, while Harry turned to Nick. “I’m really sorry, but these guys seemed to have ruined our party mood. Thank you for inviting us.” 

Nearly Headless Nick blinked at Harry, but bowed them a goodbye, which Harry returned before he led Ron and Hermione back out. Their teeth were chattering, and Harry’s own fingers were starting to get numb. Ron was laughing though, once they were out of earshot of the party. 

“Mate. Harry, mate, that was bloody brilliant! Did you see the look on his stupid head?” With a sigh, Ron whipped at his eye and shook his head. “Come on. Pudding might not be finished yet.” 

As Ron let them back up the hall full of black candles, Hermione turned to look at Harry with confusion. “Harry, what do you mean Nearly Headless Nick gave you a fright? When was this?” 

“Oh, it was when he asked me to come to the party,” Harry told her, having completely forgotten. “See, I had heard this voice, and-” 

“ _ Rip _ ,” something whispered. “ _ Tear… Kill… _ ” 

“A voice?” Hermione asked. “Harry, what-?” 

“Shh!” He hissed, squinting up and down the hall as he tried to hear where it was coming from. “It’s that voice again. Shut up a minute.” 

“ _ So hungry, _ ” it said. “ _ For so long… _ ” 

Harry turned and sprinted to follow the voice. It was growing fainter, moving away and upward. Ron and Hermione where running after him, into the entrance hall. He couldn’t hear anything over the chattering of the feast, and quickly sprinted up the staircase to the first floor. 

“ _ Kill… Time to kill… _ ” 

“It’s going to kill someone!” Harry shouted, taking the steps three at a time, trying to hear over his own footsteps. He whirled around a corner, stopping to pant as they reached a dead end corridor, to find no one there. 

“Harry,” Ron panted, wiping sweat from his face. “What was all that about? I couldn’t hear anything-” 

“Look!” Hermione suddenly gasped, pointing to the end of the corridor. 

On the floor ahead, they could see something reflected on a puddle on the floor from the wall. Slowly, Harry drew closer, eyes wide as he took it in. Foot tall words had been painted onto the wall with something thick, shimmering, and red. 

_ THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  _

_ ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE. _

“What’s that thing?” Ron asked with a quiver in his voice. “Hanging underneath?” 

They inched closer, until Harry’s feet gently splashed in the water. Their eyes were fixed on the shadow beneath the message, still swaying as if it had just been placed there. When Harry realized what it was, he nearly slipped in the water, trying to scramble away from it. 

It was Filch’s cat, hanging by her tail from the torch holder, stiff as a board with wide staring eyes. 


	7. Chamber Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wants to know about the Camber of Secrets.

Harry was to shocked to process what happened next right away. 

Students had arrived, on their way passed from the feast, and someone had screamed. Then Filch had come, started shouting and lunged at them. Harry had been to shaken to even move, even if Dumbledore hadn’t arrived in time to stop him. Teachers had arrived with him, some guiding the students away from the scene as others got the cat down. Dumbledore, meanwhile, corralled them towards Lockhart’s office. 

“It was definitely a curse that killed her,” Lockhart was saying as Dumbledore was inspecting the cat, barely an inch from his nose. “Probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her. I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou. A series of attacks- The full story in my autobiography. -I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…” 

“She’s not dead, Argus,” Dumbledore said as he straightened, making Lockhart stop. 

“Not dead?” Flich choked out looking up from his fingers at the cat. “But why’s she all… all stiff and frozen?” 

“She’s been Petrified. But how, I cannot say.” 

“Ask him!” Filch snapped, pointing to Harry with a knobby finger. 

“No second year could have done this,” Dumbledore said, rather firmly. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced-” 

“He did it!” Filch continued to shriek, his face starting to turn purple. “You saw what he wrote on the wall! He must have- My letter- He knows-!” 

“I would never hurt Mrs. Norris!” Harry shouted back, and it was true. He actually kind of liked the cat, when she wasn’t trying to get him in trouble. Sometimes, when he was walking between the owlery and the Common Room, she would rub up against his legs. She even let him pet her, once. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” 

“If I might speak, Headmaster,” Snape said from the doorway, helping Harry to relax. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, tensed. “Alistair and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“But that simply raises the question of why they were not at the feast,” McGonagall said, frowning at them. 

“I believe Alistair already explained that to me during tea this afternoon,” Snape said, though he was looking at Harry. “The Gryffindor ghost invited him and his friends to a party downstairs. And as Alistair is not one to back out of a promise… I’m sure he was there.” 

Dumbledore was looking at Harry with a strange sparkle in his eye. It unnerved Harry, making him feel like Dumbledore was looking into his very soul. But the headmaster only nodded. That, however, seem to make Filch furious. 

“My cat has been Petrified!” he shrieked, his eyes practically bursting from his head. “I want to see punishment!” 

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore said, rather patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to produce dome Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full sized, we can have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.” 

“I’ll do it,” Lockhart butted in. “I must have done it a hundred times. Could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my-” 

“Excuse me,” Snape said, his voice as smooth and sharp as ice. “But I believe I am the Potions Master at this school.” 

For a moment, there was a pause of awkward silence. Then, Dumbledore dismissed them and the three of them hurried out of the room. They barely got to the end of the hall before Snape was sweeping after them, clearing his throat. 

“Alistair,” he said, making Harry pause and turn to face him. “I expect you to be in my office when I return there.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, and continued down the hall for a little bit further. 

“What was that about?” Ron asked. “Why’s he want to see you in his office? And why are you having tea with him and talking about deathday parties?” 

“He probably wants to ask me a few more questions,” Harry explained. “And we had tea because he knew my parents when he was in school.” 

“Really?” Hermione asked. “He doesn’t look that old…” 

“Not Mama and Papa,” Harry corrected. “My birth parents. He was really close with my mother, and he told me today that I kind of remind him of her. I think he’s still grieving her, so he asks me to have tea with him before the Halloween Feast, because it’s the day she died..” 

“Oh,” Hermione gasped, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Harry, I’m so sorry… I always forget that…” 

“Don’t,” Harry said. “I didn’t know them. It’s kind of hard to miss someone you’ve never met.” 

She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead just wrapped him up in a hug before making her way up to her common room. Harry walked with Ron down to the dungeons, the black candles now gone, and parted ways at the kitchen so Harry could make his way down to Snape’s office. He sat in what was becoming his usual chair by the fireplace, which came to life when he sat down. For a while, Harry let the fire dry his shoes and warm his toes, looking up when Snape finally returned. 

“Alistair,” the professor said, moving to take the other chair. “Why were you in that corridor? If you left the party of ghosts early, why not join the feast?” 

For a moment, Harry chewed his lip. “I… When we were leaving… There was this voice.” 

“Voice?” Snape asked, brow raising high. 

“I had heard it before,” Harry said. “It was saying things, about ripping and tearing, and I thought someone was in danger. So I tried to follow it, and Ron and Hermione followed me… And then we just… found it. The wall. And Mrs. Norris…” 

“Why did you not mention this earlier?” 

“Because Ron and Hermione didn’t hear it.” 

There was a moment as Snape was looking at him curiously. Harry just wanted to know if the man was going to call him crazy and have him shipped off to St. Mungo’s. Instead, the Professor sighed and spoke very seriously. 

“It is important that you are  _ completely  _ honest with me, Alistair,” Snape said, running a hand over his face. “So that we do not have a repeat of last year’s incident with the Dark Lord. If you hear this voice again, you will come to me immediately. You may return to you Dormitory for the night.” 

With a quick nod, Harry got up and headed for the door. When he touched the knob, he paused, glancing back at his professor. “Will Mrs. Norris be okay?” 

Snape gave a snort. “You are far to kind for your own good, Alistair. But yes. She will be perfectly fine once she has the potion. Now go to bed.” 

Harry didn’t pause again on his way back to the Slytherin Common Room. 

XxXXxX

The next few weeks were filled with nothing but whispers of what had happened to Mrs. Norris. Everyone was either greatly interested or extremely disturbed. Hermione seemed to be part of the former, as she had her eyes glued on a book no matter what they were doing. Ginny Weasley seemed to be part of the later, though she was one of the few first years that was. 

Harry ended up getting odd reactions from everyone he passed in the halls. Some people stopped whispering, some whispered more, and some people straight up ran away from him like Ron’s dorm mate, Justin Finch-Fletchley. He had no clue why, and instead focused on his homework. He had a transfiguration essay due next period, and Harry was sure he only needed another inch or two more to get the needed three feet. 

“All the copies of  _ Hogwarts, A History _ have been taken out,” Hermione told them when she sat by them in the library. “And there’s a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn’t left my copy at home, but I couldn’t fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books.” 

“Why do you need it?” Harry asked, not really paying attention. Honestly, hadn’t she read it, like, twenty times already? 

“The same reason everyone else wants it,” Hermione said, like it should be obvious. “To read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.” 

That got Harry’s attention. “What’s that?” 

“That’s just it. I can’t remember.” She said, shaking her head. “I could have sworn I had read about it somewhere else, but I can’t find the book. It’s like Nicholas Flamel all over again and-” 

“Hermione,” Ron whined, as lunch grew closer to an end. He had double potions next, and if he showed up without a completed Essay on the use of powered moonstone, he would be dead. “Please, let me read over your essay. I just need two more inches…” 

“You’ve had all week to write it,” Hermione huffed. “Honestly, Ronald.” 

Before Ron could turn his sad eyes on Harry, the bell rang. They went their separate ways, and Harry turned in his completed Transfiguration essay. Then he had Charms, and it was off to Quidditch practice. It was the same as always, though Flint was more riled up then ever, with their first game of the year only days away. It was a Gryffindor and Slytherin again, just like last year. 

It was after Quidditch, as Harry walked with Malfoy back to their dorm, that Harry saw Hermione and Ron again. Hermione was tapping her foot impatiently, looking like she was about to burst when she finally caught sight of him. 

“Harry!” She said, voice sharp as she stalked up to him. “Where is it?” 

“What?” Harry said, blinking in surprise. “Where’s what?” 

“Slytherin’s book!” Hermione said, more urgently. “I need to see it again!” 

“Again?” Malfoy asked, though he was ignored. 

“It’s cursed!” Ron said, hysterical behind her. “She’s become obsessed with it since this afternoon! I told you, Harry! It’s dark! It’s possessed her!” 

“Don’t be an idiot, Ronald,” Hermione snapped. “I asked Professor Binns about the Chamber of Secrets in History of Magic today.” 

“Really?” Harry said, leading the way down the passages to the dungeons. “And he told you about it? But what does that have to do with Slytherin’s book?” 

“Well, he didn’t tell me anything.” When Harry raised a brow at her, she quickly continued. “But he said that is has something to do with Slytherin. Well, his exact words were ‘Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets is simply a myth’, but it’s a clue!” 

“You’re curious about the Chamber?” Malfoy said, frowning. “But no one knows were it is.” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stopped. Malfoy took a few more steps, seemed to notice they weren’t following, and stopped to look back at them. 

“What?” 

“ _ You _ know about the Chamber?” Ron asked.

“Of course. So do Alistair and Granger. They read the book to.” 

Harry and Hermione simply stared at him. 

“Or… not…” 


	8. Chambers and Brooms

“Hogwarts was founded by the four great witches and wizards over a thousand years ago. Those founders were Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built the castle together, far from the prying eyes of Muggles, since it wasn’t long after the Wizard-Muggle war.

“For a few years, the founders worked together to find young children who showed signs of magic, and bring them to the castle to be educated in witchcraft and wizardry. However, Slytherin was slowly separated from the other founders, as he thought that they should be more selective with who became students. He remembered the war very clearly, remembered the mud- the traitors who betrayed the wizarding world. Slytherin wanted to bring only those who would leave the muggle world behind into the castle. After a while, there was an argument between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.

“However, Slytherin had a deep love for the school. He believed that it would be the key to the future of our world. So, before he left, he built a hidden chamber in the castle without the other founders knowledge. He sealed this chamber, later dubbed the Chamber of Secrets, so that no one would be able to open it until one of his descendants arrives. Only his descendants could open the chamber, unleash the power within, and use that power to purge the school of anyone who may threaten its safety.” 

When Malfoy finished, he looked between the three, who simply continued to stare at him. “What?” 

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Hermione said, gaping more at herself then at Malfoy. “I knew I had read about the Chamber somewhere!” 

“Do you know where the Chamber is?” Harry pressed.

“What do you think it means by ‘power’?” Ron asked. 

“I don’t know,” Malfoy said, looking at them like they were crazy. “Honestly. I don’t know any more then you do. But I have my own guesses about what it means by power. The more modern version of the tale calls it a ‘horror’, so it’s likely a monster of some kind. Likely a kind of snake, since Slytherin was famous for being a Parseltongue.” 

Harry blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh,” he said, voice soft. He hadn’t thought of that. A snake… No wonder Ron and Hermione couldn’t hear the voice. It wasn’t speaking words. It was hissing. A hissing that only he could understand. 

“We should go check out the wall,” Ron said, gaining everyone’s attention. “See if Filch has moved from his post.” 

Malfoy was instantly standing. “Well you can leave me out of it!” 

“Okay,” Hermione said, and started to lead the way towards the stairs. Ron was quick to follow. 

“Thanks Malfoy,” Harry said as he followed his two friends. “See you back in the Common Room.” 

They were halfway up the stairs when Harry heard Malfoy let out a spluttering cry. “Idiots, the lot of them! Should have put with the rest of the danger chasers in Gryffindor! Idiots!” 

Harry couldn’t help but snicker, and follow Ron and Hermione the rest of the way up the stairs. They stopped just around the corner, peeking around to check for Filch. He was gone. 

The three of them entered the corridor, looking around. It was exactly the same as before, aside from the Mrs. Norris being taken down and an empty chair placed under the message. They had seen Flich trying to scrub it way, bit it must have been spelled somehow, and only seem to shimmer more brightly, as if it had been polished. Setting their bags aside, they all began to look for clues. 

“Come look at this,” Hermione said, over by a window. “This is strange…” 

They moved to crowd around the window, peering up to where Hermione was pointing. At the top of the window, there were twenty or so spiders scuttling around a crack. They were slipping through it, sliding down a silvery thread of webbing that was dangling down, down, down, and out of sight on the other side. 

“Have you ever seen spiders act like that?” Hermione asked. 

“No,” Harry said, turning to look back at Ron. When Hermione looked over as well, Harry shrugged. “He doesn’t like spiders. Live ones. They freak him out.” Hermione giggled, and Harry elbowed her, changing the subject. “Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone mopped it up.” 

“It was about here,” Ron said, clearly glad for the change. “Level with that door there.” 

For a moment, Ron reached for the brass doorknob, but he quickly withdrew it as if he had been burned. 

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked. 

“Can’t go in there. That’s the girls toilet.” 

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione sighed, pushing past them and open the door. “There won’t be anyone in there. It’s Moaning Myrtle’s place. Come on. Let’s have a look.” 

The bathroom had to be the gloomiest Harry had ever seen. One one side, a row of chipped sinks were set beneath a cracked and spotted mirror. Even if someone had mopped outside, the floor inside was damp, reflecting the light of the few candles, barely alive in their holders. Each door to the stalls was scratched, one even dangling from its hinges. 

Hermione moved to the end stall, glancing into it. “Hello, Myrtle. How are you?” 

Harry and Ron followed her, looking into the stall with Hermione. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the toilet, picking at her chin. 

“This is a girls bathroom,” Myrtle stressed. “They’re not girls.” 

“No,” Hermione agreed. “I just wanted to, er…” 

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, and stepped forward, making sure he had a kind smile. “We were hoping you would answer a few questions. You might be able to help us, and we would really appreciate it.” 

“Help?” Myrtle asked, a mix of anger and confusion, as if she couldn’t decide which to be. 

“Yes,” Harry said. “Your help.” 

“We wanted to ask you if you’ve seen anything funny lately,” Hermione said. “Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween.” 

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Myrtle said, rather dramatically. “Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m… That I’m…” 

“Already dead?” Ron said, not helping. 

With a tragic sob, the ghost girl rose up into the air, turned over, and dove head first into the toilet. Water splashed out at them as she vanished from sight, but from the sound of her muffled sobs, Myrtle hadn’t gone very far. Harry wanted to say something, but Hermione seemed to think they were done for the day. 

Together, the three of them went back out to the hallway to gather their things. It was getting rather late, and dinner would be starting soon, if it hadn’t already. Besides, they needed to leave before they- 

“ _ Ron _ !” 

-got caught. At the end of the hall, at the head of the stairs, Percy Weasley was staring at them in complete shock. 

“That’s a  _ girls  _ bathroom,” he gasped. “What were  _ you- _ ?” 

“Just looking around,” Ron said with a shrug. “Clues, you know-” 

“Get away from there,” Percy snapped, swelling in a way that reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley. “Don’t you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone’s at dinner?” 

“Why shouldn’t we be here?” Ron snapped, as Percy stormed over to them. “We never laid a finger on that cat!” 

“That’s what I told Ginny,” Percy said, voice fierce. “But she still seems to think you’re going to be expelled any day now! I’ve never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out. You might think of  _ her _ , before you worry her to death-” 

“ _ You _ don’t care about Ginny,” Ron snapped, his ears beginning to redden. “ _ You’re _ just worried I’m going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy-!”

“Five points from Hufflepuff!” Percy snapped, hand coming up to finger his prefect badge. “And I hope it teaches you a lesson. No more ‘detective work’, or I’ll write to Mum!” 

The older Weasley stormed off at that, and the three of them went to the kitchens for dinner, rather then the Great Hall. 

XxXXxX

That Saturday, they had their first game of the season. Harry was nervous, trying to shake out his hands and toss off his nerves. They had nearly an entirely new team again. But they had trained hard. Not as hard as Gryffindor, though. They had been practicing in the rain, four times a week. Slytherin only practiced twice a week. They weren’t prepared. They were definitely not prepared, and- 

“Alistair,” Malfoy said, giving Harry a whack on the shoulder. 

Harry blinked, turning to look at Malfoy for a second, then quickly mounted his broom. 

“On my whistle,” Madam Hooch said. “Three… Two… One…” 

With a tweet of the whistle, and a roar from the crowd, all of them were up and in the air. Harry rose above everyone, his back to the cloudy sky, and peering down at the game. It was thanks to this that Harry saw the Bludger coming towards him. 

Ducking out of the way, Harry looked up just in time to see the dangerous ball to zip over his head. Jack Williams was chasing after it, hitting it away, and over towards Skyla on the Gryffindor side. Only, it didn’t go very far before it was it was making a u-turn and sipping back towards Harry’s face. He dodged it again, Williams ducking in to guard him once more. 

The Bludger continued to chase Harry after that. Why it seemed to be targeting him, Harry had no clue, darting every way he could to avoid getting hit. Williams, still not quite on par with Bole, was puffing in minutes, Derrick even coming to help, since Williams couldn't keep up with it on his own. 

“Somebody must have tampered with it,” Derrick hiss, scowling at it as Lee Jordan announced the score, forty to zero. “We need to call a timeout to figure this out.” 

“No,” Harry said, dropping flat on his broom so Derrick could swing at the Bludger over his head. “I’m quick, remember? And I have a good eye. Even Snape says so. I can outrun the Bludger while you both go and get back in the game, but only if you give me an opening.” 

The two Slytherin Beaters shared a look, and Harry got ready to make a run for it. Derrick and Williams wound up their bats, waited, and then swung with everything they had. With a crack, the Bludger was sailing off in one direction, while Harry sped away in the other. It was still zipping after him in seconds, but it was enough of a lead that Harry could keep it behind him and start looking for the Snitch. The sooner the match ended, the better, points be damned. 

“Harry!” he heard Skyla call, as he zipped by her. He didn’t focus on that, though. Find the Snitch. End the match. Don’t die. Typical game, right?

“Slytherin taking up the lead with a score of fifty to sixty,” Lee Jordan said, venom in his voice. “Beaters Derrick and Williams have abandoned Slytherin Seeker Alistair to the mercy of a rogue Bludger! The bastards don’t even seem to be looking in the poor kids direction!” 

They were ten points ahead. If he caught the Snitch now, not only would they win, but they would get the most points towards the Quidditch Cup! He had to find it. The Snitch, was it-? 

With a crack, the Bludger slammed through Harry’s left arm. Pain bloomed through his body, and he barely managed to hold onto his broom with one hand to swerve out of the way before the Bludger could hit him again. His arm hung limp at his side, and he could hear someone scream, as he turned and dived to where he had thought he’s seen it before he’d gotten hit. He could barely make out the blurry shape of Skyla in front of him, as he dived towards her, legs wrapping around his broom as his other hand came off the handle to reach out. 

There was a scream, again, as Harry’s hand wrapped around the cold metal of the Snitch. He had no time to celebrate though, as his vision clouded and he had the strangest feeling of being tipped to the side. 

When he blinked open his eyes again, he was looking up at someone with golden hair and shiny white teeth. 

“Not to worry, Harry,” the person said. “I’m about to fix your arm.” 

“No!” Harry said, trying desperately to thrash away Lockhart. “No, stop!” 

“He’s delirious, doesn’t know what he’s saying. Just lie back, Harry. It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times.” 

Before anyone could stop him, Lockhart had drawn his wand and pointed it at Harry’s arm. A strange and horribly spine tingling sensation filled his arm, going from his shoulder, all the way to his fingers. Then, the tingling stopped. And so did all feeling in his arm. 

“Ah,” Lockhart was saying, as Harry dared to look down at his arm. “Yes, well, that can happen sometimes. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bare in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing. Ah, Miss Alistair, yes, you can-” 

There was a cracking sound along with a flash, and Harry looked up from his strange looking arm to see Lockhart stumble back, Skyla’s arm still raised from punching the man. Skyla being violent? How strange… Strange, like the weird flesh colored rubber glove that was somehow where Harry’s arm should be. What had happened to his arm? 

“What’s wrong with him?” Malfoy said to his left, and Harry turned to stare blankly at the other Slytherin. Since when was Malfoy standing next to him? When had that happened? Hadn’t he been playing Quidditch? Malfoy, you’re supposed to be on your broom. 

“I think he’s in shock,” Hermione’s voice said to his right. “Ron, Malfoy, you need to help him stand. He needs to get to the hospital wing.” 

Hospital wing? He had been playing Quidditch. With Malfoy. He needed his broom. Where was the broom? It was on the ground. He was on the ground. Why was he on the ground? 

“We better hurry,” Ron said, taking Hermione’s place, and starting to lever Harry up. “Come on, mate. Just got to get to the Hospital wing. Not to far. You can make-” 

As soon as Harry was fully standing, his eyes went black, and he was tipping backward once again.


	9. Howlers, Round Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry once again for the delay! I mean to update this series ever week, but I keep doing it every week and a half. I'll try getting back on track.

When Harry came to again, he was in the hospital wing. He blinked, a bit dazed, as he took in his surroundings. His arm was tingling, put into a brace and a sling, with the deflated fingers peeking out. There was a bottle labeled ‘Skele-Gro’ on the table, where someone had set his glasses. The curtains of the bed he had been laid on were also pulled shut, and it was rather dark beyond them. He must have been out for quite a while. 

“Get Madam Pomfrey,” a voice said as footsteps filled Harry’s ears. Dumbledore. 

A strange shaped shadow passed Harry’s curtain, and Harry watched it curiously. There were hurried footsteps, and two more shadows pass the curtain, this time recognizable as two people. 

“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey whispered, as they bent over a shadow lump in the bed next to Harry’s. 

“Another attack,” Dumbledore sighed. “Minerva found him on the stairs.” 

“Petrified?” 

“Yes,” McGonagall said, voice grave. “But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate… Who knows what might have…” 

There was a pause, before there was a movement from the shadow that Harry was sure was Dumbledore. 

“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” McGonagall asked, voice eager. 

Dumbledore didn’t respond to that. There was a hiss, a horrid smell of burning plastic filled the air. 

“Good gracious!” Madam Pomfrey gasped. “Melted. All melted…” 

“What does this mean, Albus?” McGonagall asked. 

“It means,” Dumbledore said, slow and grave, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.” 

Again? Harry wasn’t imagining that. Dumbledore had definitely said again. That meant that the Chamber had been open once before. But if it had been opened before, wouldn’t there be a report? 

“But,” McGonagall stammered. “Albus… Surely… Who?” 

“The question is not who,” Dumbledore said, as the curtains were drawn around the lump in the bed, the adults heading for the door. “The question is… How?” 

XxXXxX

That morning, when Harry woke again, he found the hospital wing filled with early winter light and his arm reboned. It was stiff, though, and tingled when he tried to stretch his fingers. It didn’t take long for Pomfrey to notice he was awake. Once she had, she checked over his arm, and told him he was free to go to breakfast. 

Harry quickly made his way downstairs, stretching his legs as he walked. It had been a long night, and he just wanted to get something to eat. When he entered the Great Hall, arm still in a sling, at least for the rest of the day, a few people whistled and cheered. He blinked, and moved his way to sit awkwardly at the Slytherin table. 

“Alistair,” Malfoy gasped when he saw him. “Merlin, what were you thinking?” 

“What?” Harry said, fumbling a little with one arm to take a bowl of porridge. “It was an accident. And the arm wasn’t my fault. Not what happened in the end, anyway.” 

“Right,” Malfoy said, scowling. “And telling Derrick and Williams to fly off wasn’t your fault either?” 

“The sooner I got the Snitch the sooner the game would end. Skyla was to worried to pay attention, and with those two hovering around me, I’d never catch it. Really, it’s not a big deal.” 

“You’re sister punching Lockhart is,” Zabini said as he slid into the spot on Harry’s left. “Must have broken his nose, there was so much blood. Cut her knuckles to.” 

Harry choked a little on his breakfast, coughing as he blinked. “Skyla punched Lockhart?” 

“Yeah,got detention for it, to. With McGonagall, though, not-” 

“Look!” someone sitting closer to the staff table said, as owls were beginning to fly in. “Lockhart’s got a Howler!” 

Harry blinked, lifting up out of his seat to see if it was true. And sure enough, Lockhart was holding a red letter. Only, Harry recognized the owl that had delivered it. Only one owl could look that disgusted with a person while still looking disinterested… Siren. 

“Fans,” Lockhart said, cuckling. “I get one of these a month, at least.” 

“Oh god,” Harry said, trying to hide in his seat, yet also very interested in hearing just what his parents had to say to the professor. 

“ _ -NEVER IN MY LIFE _ ,” Mama’s voice boomed through the hall when the letter was opened. “ _ NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I HEARD OF A MAN AS INCOMPETENT, IDIOTIC, AND DISGUSTING AS YOU! I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE A ‘PROFESSOR’, I HOPE MY DAUGHTER BROKE YOUR BLOODY NOSE! YOU DESERVE FAR WORSE, AND MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, IT WILL FIX YOUR UGLY FACE! _ ” 

Lockhart had recoiled in shock, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. 

“ _ YOU ARE A DEFENSE PROFESSOR, YET I HEAR YOU TRIED TO HEAL MY SON’S ARM?! I DON’T CARE WHAT SKILLS YOU CLAIM TO HAVE, AS ALL I’VE SEEN IS YOUR STUPIDITY IN ALL SUBJECTS! MADAM POMFREY IS THERE TO HEAL INJURIES, SO LET HER DO HER BLOODY JOB, YOU ARROGANT, INSUFFERABLE BRAT! NEVER IN MY LIFE, NOT IN THE THIRTY YEARS OF SENDING MY CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN TO THAT SCHOOL, HAVE I SEEN A TEACHER AS INCOMPETENT AS YOU! _

“ _ I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD LAWYER, LOCKHART! BECAUSE ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! I AM DONE, ABSOLUTELY DONE, WITH YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU ‘CLAIM’ TO BE! WE’RE COMING FOR YOU, AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT TAKES! YOU ARE DONE! _ ” 

The Howler went up in quiet the fantastic burst of flames, barely an inch from Lockhart’s face. The room went dead silent, before a few students gave a cheer. Others were either staring in shock at Lockhart, Harry, Jasper, or Marissa. 

“Alistair,” Zabini said, trying to keep control of himself. “Your mother is amazing.” 

“Yeah,” Harry sighed as he got up from his seat. “I just hope this doesn’t cause any trouble.” 

He was off to find Ron and Hermione after that. He had to tell them what he had heard Dumbledore say. They seemed just as confused as Harry, though, when he told them. They had tried to ask Malfoy if he knew anything else about the Chamber, but he just told them no and that they should leave it alone. 

With nothing else to do what wait, they got back to classes. 

XxXXxX

Just before the start of December, the castle was tossed into an excited bustle by the announcement of a dueling club. Most of the Slytherins and Gryffindors were immediately on board, while a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined in. The first meeting was on a Monday night, at eight in the evening, in the Great hall. 

Harry arrived to the Great hall with the other Slytherins after dinner, finding Ron and Hermione inside. The dining tables had been moved out of the room, and a large golden stage had been placed against a wall. The room was packed with what seemed like most of the school’s lower grades, each student holding their wands in their hands and looking excited. Harry couldn’t blame them. This was something most of them had never done before. 

“I wonder who will be teaching us,” Hermione said as she wedged their way deeper into the crowd. “Someone told me that Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young. Maybe it will be him.” 

Harry shrugged, coming to a stop in the crowded room. “As long as it’s not…” 

And, just Harry’s luck. The one person that Harry didn’t want to be around was walking onto the stage, with the same ridiculous look on his face. The horrendous purple of the man’s robes gave him away before Harry even saw the fake shiny teeth. It was Lockhart. 

For a moment, Harry contemplated turning around and leaving before Lockhart did something stupid. Really, Harry didn’t want to spend another night in the hospital wing with a boneless arm. But then Harry saw Snape join Lockhart on the stage and figured that everything would be okay. Snape wouldn’t let Lockhart do anything stupid again… 

Right? 

“Gather round,” Lockhart called. “Gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works.” 

God, Lockhart talked way to much about his books. Actions speak louder then words, but it seemed that Lockhart thought it was the other way around. He was always talking about what he did in his books, never showing them he could do those things, like he wanted them to… Oh god, Lockhart was using the teaching position to promote his books, wasn’t he? 

There was a bang, drawing Harry out of his sudden realization. He looked up to find Snape still standing in a casting position, and Lockhart falling to the floor after hitting the wall. The other Slytherin’s gave cheers, and Harry couldn’t help but snort. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, but he was sure that Lockhart had deserved it. 

“Do you think he’s alright?” Hermione asked. 

“Who cares,” Ron said, a bit of a grin on his own face. 

“Right!” Lockhart said, looking rather disheveled compared to his normally composed look as he walked back up to the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm. As you can see, I have lost my wand- Oh, yes, thank you Miss Brown. Yes an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape. But, if you don’t mind me saying, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only to easy.” 

“Bullshit,” Harry muttered under his breath. They hadn’t done the Disarming Spell in Lockhart’s class- The man was to busy trying to make them act out scenes from his books -but Harry already knew how to cast it. He also knew that the only way that spell could throw someone across a room was if the victim was utterly unprepared for it. 

A few of the people around Harry snickered, and Lockhart cleared his throat. “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now to put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me?” 

The two professors moved into the crowd, weaving through the students and seeming to randomly pair them up. Thankfully, Lockhart was busy pairing Longbottom with Finch-Fletchley, so Snape reached him first. 

“Alistair,” Snape said, peering at them. “You’ll be paired with Zabini. I’d rather not lose a student to Weasley’s unpredictable casting.” 

Harry shrugged, and shot Ron a smile. It was true. Half the time they had no clue what Ron’s wand would do. And Harry would like to live to see the end of the day. So he paired up with Zabini, the both of them moving into position. Hermione was put with Malfoy, and Ron got paired with a boy from Gryffindor. 

“Wands at the ready,” Lockhart called. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm, your opponents. Only to disarm. We don’t want any accidents. One… Two… Three!” 

Harry and Zabini moved to cast, though it wasn’t the Disarming Charm. Zabini had been using Maria’s book as well, and he knew that Harry knew more defense capable spells then he did. And, honestly, Harry wasn’t going to let all his extra studying go to waste. Which is how Harry ended up in a full body bind and Zabini had a pumpkin for a head. 

The rest of the room was in about the same state of chaos. One girl had a broken nose, while Ron’s partner had gone ashen from whatever Ron’s wand had done. There was a fair share of students laying on the ground, having been knocked over during their duels. Lockhart was shouting, though his voice was lost in the noise.

Eventually, Snape’s voice boomed over the noise in the room, shouting a spell to end all the others happening in the room. They all fell silent, turning to watch as Lockhart started weaving through the crowd, sending some students to the hospital wing. 

“I think I’d better teach you how to block an unfriendly spell,” Lockhart said, from the center of the room. With a glance at Snape, he smiled, and quickly looked away. “Let’s have a volunteer pair. Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about-” 

Snape cleared his throat. “A bad idea, Professor Lockhart. Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We’d be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Perhaps a more compotant pair, like Malfoy and Granger?” 

“Excellent idea,” Lockhart said, having the students back up to give Malfoy and Hermione room. 

Snape glided down to whisper in Malfoy’s ear, as Lockhart was saying something to Hermione and doing some strange motion with his wand. Hermione was frowning, actually looking confused for once, and her frown only deepened when Lockhart actually dropped his wand. Whatever Lockhart was trying to teach her, she wasn’t getting, and she clearly didn’t like that idea. 

When the duel began, Hermione and Malfoy bowed to each other. They got into position, and on Lockhart’s mark, began. Before Hermione could react, Malfoy had already cast, the end of his wand exploding, and a long black snake shooting out of it. With a heavy thump, it hit the floor, and raised itself up to strike. Some of the students on the inside of the circle screamed, pushing back, and Harry started shouldering himself closer. 

If he could just get the snakes attention… He could order it to back down. 

“Calm yourselves,” Snape said dryly, pulling his wand. “I’ll get rid of it.” 

Before Harry could let out a sigh of relief, Lockhart jumped in. “Allow me!” 

With a wave of his wand, Lockhart was casting a spell at the snake. It flew ten feet into the air with a bang, and landed with a smack on the stones. It hissed, furious, and started towards the first person its eyes landed on. It raised itself, fangs showing, and poised to strike at Finch-Fletchley a few feet to Harry’s left. 

He acted on instinct. 

“ _ Stop _ !” Harry commanded stepping out into the circle. A few students scrambled away from him, but the snake turned its eyes on Harry, though only for a second. Harry tried again, this time more firmly. “ _ Come to me _ !” 

The snake lowered out of the striking position, and slowly made its way to Harry. When it was close enough, Harry bent and picked the snake up, letting it coil up his arm and around his shoulders. With the immediate threat removed, Harry turned to Snape, only to find the man staring at him in surprise. 


	10. Winter Holiday

As soon as Snape had vanished the snake, Hermione and Ron were grabbing at his robes and steering him out of the room. On their way out, Harry wasn’t that surprised to find almost everyone staring at him, and ducked his head. Papa had told him to not tell anyone about his parseltongue… Guess that snake was out of the bag. 

“You’re a parselmouth,” Ron said, as they dragged Harry towards the kitchens. “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry tried. “Papa knew about it, and he said not to tell anyone. I just figured it would make them uncomfortable, me walking around and hissing at a snake. What does it matter?” 

“It matters because Parseltongue was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for,” Hermione said, her voice hushed as they quickly ducked into the kitchens. “That’s why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent.” 

Harry frowned, not sure what she was getting at, but Ron seemed to. 

“Exactly! And now, the whole school is gonna think you’re his great-great-great-great-grandson or something. It doesn’t help that you’re in Slytherin house. To many people already think you’re-” Ron cut himself off, going a bit pink. 

“Think I’m what?” Harry said, frowning. 

“Nothing,” Ron said. “Really, Harry, it’s-” 

“They think you’re the Heir in the message,” Hermione said, making Harry jump. “A lot of people think you opened the Chamber of Secrets and let out the horror from inside. Now, nearly the entire school will think you are the Heir.” 

“But I’m not,” Harry said, eyes wide. “Why would I want to hurt Mrs. Norris? I don’t even know the person who got petrified.” 

His two friends glanced at each other. Harry frowned, looking between them in confusion. They were clearly hiding something from him, and it couldn’t be good. 

“What is it?” Harry pressed. 

They shared another glance before Hermione finally spoke. 

“I… found out who it was,” she said. “He’s a first year, from Gryffindor. A muggleborn. He carries around a big muggle camera. His name is Colin Creevy.” 

“Creevy?” Harry said, frowning in thought. “I’ve heard that name… But I don’t know where.” 

“He’s been following around your sister and Marissa,” Ron said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting uncomfortably. “Asking them questions about your family and stuff. Wants to know more about the famous Alistair's. Well, when Lockhart did that thing to your arm? Creevy was there when Skyla punched Lockhart and when you fainted. He took a ton of pictures.” 

Harry felt his stomach drop. If they thought he was the Heir, then they must also think that he attacked Creevy for taking those photos. But Harry hadn’t even know someone had been taking photos. He’d seen a flash, yes, but after that he had been out for the rest of the day. He hadn’t even woken up until Dumbledore had brought Creevy in. 

He told Ron and Hermione as much, but they couldn’t do much else but shrug helplessly. There was nothing they could say or do to prove to the school that Harry wasn’t the Heir. Harry just… needed some time to clear his head. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” Harry said, as he got up from their little table in the kitchen and headed for the door. “I’m going for a walk. Need some time to think.” 

They didn’t try to stop him, instead just watching him go. He made his way back up the stairs, towards the entrance hall. A walk outside would be great. It was cold, sure, but he could use the fresh air. Maybe he could go visit Hagrid? Yes, that would be nice. Tea with Hagrid. Maybe he could finally get Fang to play fetch. 

When he reached the hut, however, Hagrid was nowhere in sight. Fang was on the porch, sleeping, so Harry decided not to bother the dog and headed back up to the castle. It hadn’t been a long walk, but Harry felt better as he entered the school. That is, until he caught a glimpse of something at the top of the stairs leading up to the next floor. 

Slowly, Harry inched his way up the steps, his stomach rolling with dread. No, it couldn’t be… But it was. It was Nearly Headless Nick, now a black smoky color, floating frozen and horizontal just above the floor. Beside the ghost was Finch-Fletchley. The Hufflepuff was frozen, eyes staring up at the ceiling blankly. Both the student and the ghost were wearing looks of absolute shock. 

Harry felt like he was going to throw up, and scrambled to run to the nearest classroom to get a teacher. He threw open the door to McGonagall’s classroom, making it bang against the wall. She looked up, brow furrowed in disapproval, until she saw his face. McGonagall got up immediately, and Harry was pointing, waving his arms, but not sure what to say, in the direction of Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick. 

Everything was a blur after that. Harry was standing off to the side, staring off into space and trying not to look at anyone, or risk feeling ill once more. McGonagall had the two moved off the stairs before anyone else could see them, and led Harry away to a deserted corridor. Harry could only watch as she said something to a stone gargoyle. It sprang to life, and hopped out of the way for the wall behind it to split open and reveal a spiral staircase spinning upward. 

Riding the moving stairs up to the top, they stepped off to stand in front of a large set of oak doors. McGonagall led him through the doors, and Harry was told to wait as she went through another door. 

The room was filled with strange things, most of which Harry had never seen before, but there was one thing Harry recognized. It was a phoenix, perched over a golden bowl. Harry had only ever seen them in books, but he could tell, mostly by the way it caught fire and burned to ash right in front of him. Harry waited, waited, then held out his hand when the tiny, wrinkled head of a newborn bird poked out of the ash, and gently touched its head to the knuckles of Harry’s hand. 

“About time,” a voice said from behind him, making him turn around. Dumbledore. “He’s looked dreadful for days. I’ve been telling him to get a move on.” There was a slight pause, and when Harry said nothing, he continued. “Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes-” 

“I know what a phoenix is, Sir,” Harry said, keeping his face as blank as he could. 

Dumbledore’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes did spark with something Harry couldn’t figure out. “It’s a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day. He’s really very handsome most of the time. Wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets.” 

“I think he’s still amazing,” Harry said, eyeing the professor. “No matter if it’s when they’re full grown, or on a Burning Day, phoenixes are beautiful creatures. They live long and happy lives, until they are old and weak. But they stay strong, accept the burning so they can rise again, and be strong once more.” 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, looking thoughtful as he took a seat at the desk. “Well, I asked you here so I could talk to you.” 

“I didn’t attack those students, Sir.” 

“I did not say you did. I just wanted to ask you how you’re doing. I heard you got a Howler at the beginning of the year?” 

“I did,” Harry said, frowning. “But I deserved it, Sir. I shouldn’t have taken that car.” 

“So everything is alright at home? There’s nothing you wish to tell me?” 

“No,” Harry said without hesitation. “There isn’t anything, Sir. Now, if I may go?” 

Dumbledore didn't lose his smile, but Harry could see the displeasure in his eye. 

“Yes, Harry, you may go.” 

XxXXxX

When Christmas drew nearer, and the end of term with it, Harry was one of the first people to book a seat on the train. He was going home this year, with Skyla right behind him. Nearly the entirety of the school soon followed. Very few were actually staying this year, even less then last year, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were actually staying this year. It was practically just the three Slytherin second years and the Weasley’s, since Ron and his brothers and sister didn’t want to go to Egypt to visit the oldest Weasley son. 

“Don’t let him get to you,” Harry told Ron as he was leaving. “I don’t want to come back to find out you’ve punched him.” 

“I won’t make any promises,” Ron chuckled. “You have fun with your family. You to, Hermione.” 

Ron waved goodbye to them as they went to the train. Harry and Hermione got their own compartment, though it might have been because so many thought he was the Heir. He didn’t like it, but it gave Harry a little while away from the noise. Zabini and Nott joined them, after a while, though Zabini said it was because to many people were talking about Harry. The same thing happened with Marissa, Jasper, and Skyla, making their compartment a little cramped.

When Harry finally got off the train, he and Skyla went to where Mama was waiting for them, and they went home. 

Harry was happy to be back. It was a relief, a weight off his shoulders, to be able to be home, if only for a while. The grounds were beautiful with a thick layer of white snow, with a few fairy lights strung around the trees that made the snow glint and sparkle in the evening. It helped Harry forget about the worries he had faced at school.

The Christmas break passed with a very calm air about the house. Family came and visited, though were soon gone to return home before any storms hit. They sat and drank coco around the fire. Even Christmas itself went by rather calmly. Sure, there were a few presents, like books or treats, but there was nothing exciting that happened. It was just… peaceful, calm. And Harry loved it. 

Just before the end of the winter holiday, Russell came with Maria to the house. They were, indeed, planning a wedding, and told Harry that he was welcome to invite a friend or two. Then Maria gave him a bit of a test, on the year two work, and gushed about how she wished he was one of her students, he was so skilled in defense. It would take a few weeks, but she would have a copy of her third year course sent to him at Hogwarts. 

His mother did talk to him a bit about their lawsuit against Lockhart. Lockhart was, of course, trying to settle outside of court, and seemed to think money was the right way to do that. Mama was not pleased, and was trying to get Lockhart removed from the school. Harry decided that, maybe, it would be best to let it be? After all, Lockhart wouldn’t be staying for more then the year. Hopefully...

As Harry got ready to go back to school, the last day of break, he paused, remembering that they were stuck with the Chamber mystery. And, really, there was only one person Harry could ask. 

“Papa?” Harry said, as he poked his head into his fathers office. 

Harry had only been in the office once or twice. It was Papa’s home workplace, free of distractions and where he met with acquaintances for business meetings. Compared to the offices of teachers at Hogwarts, Papa’s office was rather small. There was a desk by the far wall, across from the door, and two comfy chairs that sat in front of it for guests. Aside from a small bookshelf on one side of the room, and a fireplace on the other, there wasn’t anything else in the room. Some people called the room bland or empty, but Harry thought it was just simple, and very much Papa’s style. 

“Harrison,” Papa said, looking up from his papers. He wasn’t telling Harry to leave, so he took that as a sign he could some inside. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Harry said as he closed the dark oak door behind him. “It has to do with Hogwarts and… Salazar Slytherin.” 

Papa scowled, his brow creasing together as he nodded, and gestured Harry to sit. Once Harry had, he looked expectantly at Papa, who leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in thought. Before Harry could speak again, Papa was talking. 

“I know you have Slytherin’s book,” he said. “And I know about what has been happening at Hogwarts. So you want to ask about the Chamber. It has been opened before, during my first year there.” 

“Did they ever catch who did it?” Harry couldn't help but ask. “If it was that long ago, it can’t be the same person as last time.” 

“They think they did,” Papa said, shaking his head. “A boy two years above me was blamed and he was expelled. But it couldn’t have been. He may have been big for a third year, but he was to gentle to hurt anyone. Definitely not kill that Ravenclaw girl.” 

Harry wanted to ask more, ask just who had been blamed, or who was killed, but an owl tapped at the window, drawing Papa’s attention away. Knowing that he wasn’t going to get any more answers, Harry made his way out of the office, and quietly closed the door. He may not have gotten much new information, but it was still something. 


	11. The Diary

When Harry got back to Hogwarts, he immediately told Ron and Hermione about what Papa had said. It didn’t help them get any closer to understanding what was happening, but it was still something new. Something that maybe they could figure out. 

Before they could get to into it, though, they were thrown back into classes and Harry didn’t have much time at all to think, between the numerous potions assignments Snape was handing out, almost rapid fire. Plus, Flint had added another day to their Quidditch schedule, and all of Harry’s other teachers were handing out homework to. 

Harry was on his way down to Quidditch after his Thursday Defense class, when there was a loud scream from one of the corridors. Thinking there was another attack, Harry quickly made his way towards it, only for Filch to go by. It was coming from the hall with the message on the wall, water gushing from beneath the door to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, with Myrtle’s wails echoing through the hall. 

Carefully, Harry padded through the water, holding his robes up so they didn’t get wet. When he pushed open the door, he could hear Myrtle’s cries getting louder then he ever thought possible. She seemed to be hiding in her toilet, so Harry couldn’t see her. 

“Myrtle?” Harry called. 

“Who’s there?” Myrtle said, making the toilet water bubble. “Come to throw something else at me?” 

“I would never,” Harry said, frowning. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. It’s dangerous, what with the attacks. Even for a ghost.” 

Myrtle slowly emerged from her toilet, sniffling as she eyed Harry suspiciously. “Someone thought it was funny to throw a book at me…” 

“That sounds terrible, Myrtle, I’m sorry. Do you know who threw it?” 

She sniffled, but shook her head. “I don’t know… I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head. It got washed out… It’s over there…” 

Harry waded through the water to where a small diary was sitting. He picked the soggy book up, frowning at it. It was a simple black diary, and when Harry carefully pulled the soggy pages apart, he found the name ‘T. M. Riddle’ in smudged ink at the top. Harry had never heard of a Riddle at Hogwarts. Looking at the other pages, Harry frowned when he found them empty.

“Myrtle?” Harry called, turning to look at the still sniffling ghost. “I’d like to find the person who did this, but all I have is a name I don’t recognize. Do you know a T. M. Riddle?” 

“He went to school here when I died,” Myrtle said, eyeing Harry suspiciously. “You’re really going to find who threw it?” 

“Of course,” Harry said, then caught a glimpse of the time on his watch. “I have to get to Quidditch, but I’ll tell you if I find anything!” 

With that, Harry tucked the diary into his pocket and hurried to get out to the pitch before Flint got angry. 

XxXXxX

Harry didn’t bother telling Ron and Hermione about the diary until February. 

He had tried to figure it out on his own, first. He had learned that T. M. Riddle was actually Tom M. Riddle, a Slytherin boy who had graduated from Hogwarts about forty seven years ago. Riddle had also gotten an award for services to the school fifty years ago. Which meant that Riddle would have been at Hogwarts when the Chamber of Secrets had last been opened. 

But with the pages blank, Harry didn’t get much further then that. So he took it to Ron and Hermione. Well, mostly Hermione. Ron was worried it was a dark book. 

“The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago,” Harry said. “What’s what Papa said.” 

“Right,” Ron said slowly still not getting why they needed to figure out the book. 

“And this diary is fifty years old,” Hermione prompted. 

“So?” 

Hermione let out an exasperated noise. “Oh, wake up, Ron! We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything. Where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it. The person who’s behind the attacks this time wouldn’t want that lying around, would they?”

“That’s a brilliant theory, Hermione,” Ron said, sounding almost bored. “Just one tiny flaw. There’s nothing written in his diary.” 

They had tried every idea that Hermione could think of. It wasn’t invisible ink, couldn’t be revealed by way of revealer, and eventually they couldn't think of anything else to try and had to give up on revealing what was inside the diary. Harry kept it in his bag, though, and was determined to find out more about Tom Riddle. 

Eventually, Valentine's day came around, and when Harry came in for breakfast that Sunday, he was to tired to be bothered by the strange look of the Great Hall. At first. 

As soon as Harry had eaten some breakfast and gotten some juice in him, he finally noticed the horrendous state of the Great Hall. Pink flowers were covering the walls, with red heart shaped confetti fluttering down from the rafters. A few girls were giggling, but most of the boys were looking absolutely horrified. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, scowling as some of the confetti landed in his goblet. 

Malfoy nor Zabini said anything, and just gestured to the Staff table. Lockhart was walking up to the podium in garish pink robes that matched the decorations. Harry groaned into his hands, trying to prepare himself for this next disaster. What now? Was Lockhart going to unleash some Siren’s on them? Or maybe he was going to de-bone their chests. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all. And it doesn’t end here!” 

With a clap of his hands, the entrance hall doors opened. And then, a dozen or so surly looking dwarves marched in. However, they were dressed in gold wings and carrying harps. Harry noticed that one of the dwarves looked like he was going to use the harp as a weapon. He hoped it was Lockhart’s head that was going to get bashed in, and not his own. 

But Lockhart was beaming. “My friendly, card-carrying cupids! They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

At the staff table, Flitwick was covering his face with his hands and Snape was glowering so deeply that it was clear if anyone tried to ask him for a Love Potion, they were getting poison and perhaps a detention instead. 

The rest of the day, the dwarves were all over the school. They kept interrupting people’s conversations, and shoving past people to get to their next targets. Harry was just glad he had Quidditch practice on Sunday’s now, and got to avoid most of them. 

A few dwarves did bring him cards, but they were just cards. In fact half of them had been joke cards sent out by the Weasley Twins, and the other half were from Skyla and Marissa. It was never from anyone he didn’t know, and never then a dwarf shoving it into his hands and telling him who it was from. Until just after lunch, when Harry was trying to get down to the pitch for Quidditch with Malfoy, and a dwarf seemed to appear out of nowhere in the courtyard. 

“Oi!” it shouted, kicking peoples shins to start chasing Harry. “You! ‘Arry Alistair!” Harry was ready to make a break for it, but the dwarf was on him in seconds. “I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ‘Arry Alistair in person.” 

“Please don’t” Harry begged, trying to get away when the dwarf strummed his harp threateningly. 

“Stay still,” the dwarf ordered, grabbing hold of his bag, and tugging Harry back. 

“Let go!” Harry snapped, fed up as he tried to tug his bag back. 

With a loud ripping sound, his bag was torn in two. All of Harry’s things, his books and homework, spilled to the ground. Harry seethed as he watched his now mud covered possessions get covered in ink as his bottle smashed over everything. When he knelt do scramble for his things, the dwarf pushed him to make him fall on his rear. Harry turned to Malfoy for help, only to find the git stifling giggles. 

“Right,” the dwarf said as it sat on his ankles. “Here’s your singing valentine:    
_ His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, _ _   
_ _ His hair is as dark as a blackboard, _ _   
_ _ I wish he was mine, _ _   
_ _ He’s really divine, _ _   
_ __ The Alistair who conquered the Dark Lord. ” 

Harry wanted to scream. The entire school knew that he had fought Voldemort last year, but only the ones who knew he was Harry Potter would say he conquered him. All around, people were laughing, but Harry just glowered. The dwarf finally got off, and went to find his next victim. Harry, legs a little numb, got on his knees to gather his things. 

“Tell Flint I’m not going to be at practice today,” Harry grumbled, trying his best to keep from exploding. “I have to take care of this mess.” 

Malfoy seemed to hesitate, no longer laughing, but turned to head for the pitch while Harry went back inside. He went to the dorm, glad to find it empty, and dumped his things out on the floor. Getting a towel from the bathroom, he started to wipe his things clean of mud and dab as much of the ink away as he could. He would have to ask Hermione for help cleaning most of the ink off his books, and see if there was a way to salvage his assignments. 

When Harry was wiping Tom Riddle’s diary clean, he noticed something odd. Even though it had been just as ink drenched as the rest of his books and papers, the diary was clean aside from the mud. It was almost like the diary had sucked all the ink up. 

With a new idea, Harry moved to his bedside table and pulled out a new bottle of ink. Sitting with the diary on his bed, he gently tipped the bottle to let a drop blot onto the first page. For a second, it looked like he had been wrong. Then, the ink seemed to be sucked into the pages and vanished. 

Grabbing a quill, Harry started to write. “My name is Harrison Alistair.” 

It shined on the page for a second, before disappearing. And in its place, new words appeared in a writing that wasn’t Harry’s. 

“ _ Hello Harrison Alistair. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary? _ ” 

Harry swallowed, and wrote again. “Someone tried to flush it down the toilet.” 

“ _ Lucky I recorded my memories in some more lasting way then ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read. _ ” 

“What do you mean?” Harry scrawled. 

“ _ I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _ ” 

“That’s where I am now,” Harry wrote quickly. “I’m at Hogwarts, and horrible stuff’s been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?” 

The reply came quicker this time, messy, as if Tom was hurrying to write everything he could. 

“ _ Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who’d opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned. _ ”

Harry chewed his lip as he thought that over. It wasn’t any new information. Harry already knew that a girl had died, that someone had been blamed, but not imprisoned. He also knew that whoever had been blamed had been wrongly so. 

“Thank you, Tom,” Harry wrote. “For telling me all that.” 

“ _ Of course, Harrison, _ ” Tom wrote back. “ _ Feel free to ask me anything. _ ” 

When the words faded, Harry closed the diary, and tucked it away for now. 


	12. Stolen

Harry continued to write in the diary for the next month and a half, though he didn’t bother telling Ron and Hermione. He started to tell Tom things that happened to him, like the singing dwarf, and Tom told his things from his time. It turns out that Hagrid was blamed for what had happened, and while Harry didn’t believe that Hagrid did it, Tom was very set on it being true.

As April rolled around, Harry getting his things together to go meet with Ron and Hermione, to choose their elective classes for the next year before the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Harry went to pick the diary up from where he had left it the night before. Only, it wasn’t there. Harry blinked, stared at the empty drawer of his bedside table, then blinked again. Someone had stolen the diary.

He nearly forgot to put on his shoes in his rush to get to the Kitchens. His two friends were at their usual table, and Harry half-ran, half-walked to the table. They looked up as he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

“Harry?” Hermione said, curiously. “Are you alright?”

“The Diary,” Harry puffed, chest heaving. “Someone… They stole the diary.”

“They _stole_ it?” Ron said, eyes wide in shock. “Bloody hell… What could they want with that old thing?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, finally catching his breath. “But it has to have been someone from Slytherin. Anyone else wouldn’t be able to even get into the Common Room, much less my dorm.”

“You’ll have to tell a teacher,” Hermione said, lips pursed as she frowned.

“I’m going to go to Snape,” Harry told her, “but, well, I haven’t been completely honest with you two. About the diary. It, uh, speaks to me.”

“ _Speaks_ to you?” Hermione’s voice had gone dangerously sharp, eyes narrowed as she frowned at him. “Harry, what do you mean it ‘speaks to you’?”

He gave a huff, running a hand through his hair. “If you right in the diary, it writes back. Tom Riddle, he put some kind of spell on it so it has all of his memories in up until the point that he graduated. He’s told me a few things, but nothing that we didn’t already know.” Harry paused. “Well… Besides the fact that Hagrid was blamed for opening the Chamber, but Papa already said that it couldn’t be Hagrid who opened it.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Hermione said, looking absolutely shocked. “You have to tell a teacher. This diary could be dangerous. Who knows what kind of magic Riddle did to make the diary that way.”

“I told you,” Ron said, looking both sick and smug. “It’s totally a dark book.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms. “Are you coming with me to tell Snape or not?”

“We should tell McGonagall,” Hermione suggested. “She’s Deputy Headmistress. She can get Dumbledore.”

Harry wanted to say more, but he knew better to argue with them. Together, all three of them made their way out of the kitchens and towards McGonagall’s office. He thought about turning around to tell Snape, keep this mostly in house if he could, but he stopped when they reached the entrance hall.”

“ _Kill this time,_ ” the voice said again. “ _Let me rip… Tear…_ ”

“The voice!” Harry shouted, making Ron and Hermione jump. “I just heard it again!”

Ron blinked owlishly at him, but Hermione gasped. Her eyes went wide, and she slapped herself on the forehead.

“Harry,” she said, already starting to hurry away from them. “I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!”

Before he or Ron could stop her, Hermione was running down the hall towards the library. Harry wanted to ask what she understood, but Hermione already understood way more then he did, and he had to go see Snape now. He told Ron that he would catch up with him out on the pitch, and turned around to go find Snape. His Head of House, when he finally found him, was walking briskly down the grounds, towards the stadium where the game was about to start.

“Professor,” Harry called as he ran to catch up. “Professor! I need to speak with you!”

“Not now, Alistair,” Snape said, though he did give Harry a strangely pitying look when he paused. “However… I believe that you will be required for questioning. Follow me.”

Harry blinked, but followed the professor to the pitch. He waited, as Snape caught hold of McGonagall’s arm, and whispered something to her. She recoiled, looking shocked, and much to Harry’s surprise, ran out onto the pitch. Snape, meanwhile, turned back to Harry.

Snape didn’t say anything as he led Harry back towards the castle. Harry could hear McGonagall in the distance, canceling the match, and was confused as to why. McGonagall wanted Gryffindor to win, so why cancel the match?

“This way,” Snape commanded, turning down the hallway to the hospital wing.

It was then that Harry realized there had been another attack. Someone was petrified, or worse. If someone was dead, it was definitely explain why McGonagall had canceled the match. But it didn’t mean that someone had died. It would be the fourth person to be petrified, fifth if you counted Mrs. Norris.

“Sir,” Harry said, as they reached the door. “I needed to tell you about-”

“Alistair,” Snape said, turning to face Harry. “Unless it is truly important, then I believe it can wait until later.”

Harry bit his lip. “The voice. I heard it again.”

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from Snape, but it definitely wasn’t the response he got. The professor closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he nodded. “I expected as much.” And with that, Snape opened the door to the infirmary, and let Harry inside. Harry frowned, glancing up at Snape in confusion, and slowly walked in, only to backpedal in shock.

Rather then the five beds with petrified cat, ghost, and students, there were eight. Three more students had been petrified, the bodies stiff as stone, and staring blankly in fear at the ceiling. And of the three, Harry knew two of them. And he knew them well.

Slowly, Harry walked on shaky legs towards the first to bed. With trembling hands, he reached out to curl touch the outstretched stony hands of Hermione and Skyla.

“They were found near the library,” Snape said, voice kept carefully even. “A mirror was found beside them on the floor. Do you know why?”

Harry took a shuddering breath, his mind swimming as he tried to get his thoughts straight. He couldn’t think. To much. It was all to much. First the book going missing, and then immediately after, another attack? And this time… Hermione and Skyla…

“No,” Harry finally managed to choke out. “No, Hermione and Skyla don’t carry hand mirrors… Hermione doesn’t have room in her bag for one, and Skyla doesn’t care about her appearance…”

“Do you know why they were in the library?”

Harry let out a dry laugh, shaking a little as it morphed into a half sob. “When wasn’t Hermione in the library? And Skyla? She was probably… Probably helping another student with something. It’s what she does-” Harry cut off with a sharp intake of breath. “Did…”

“They’re only petrified,” Snape assured him, reaching out to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come, now. You need to return to the Common Room.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded, and got up to follow Snape out of the room. He hugged himself, his eyes on the floor as he tried to think. Think, and keep calm. Stay strong, don’t cry. They’ll be fine in a few more weeks. And whoever is doing this… Whoever did this will pay.

“Will my parents be told?” Harry asked. “And Marissa and Jasper?”

“They are being informed as we speak,” Snape said, keeping his eyes ahead. “As will your Weasley friend. I’ll brew the potion as soon as the mandrakes are ready, Harry. They will be fine.”

The use of Harry’s first name made him look up at the professor in surprise. He had never called him Harry before. But in this moment, it was reassuring. It helped calm Harry, as he stepped into the Common Room.

XxXXxX

For the next month and a half, Harry was obsessed with figuring out who the Heir was. More then he had been before. He carried around a list of things he knew about the Chamber, about the Heir, and a list of things he needed to look into. The first two things on his list had been ‘Ask Hagrid about Chamber’ and ‘Ask Dumbledore’, but the night Hermione and Skyla were petrified, both of them were pulled out of the school.

It was hard, doing the sort of thing Hermione usually did. She was the one that was good at lists, at connecting the dots, not him. It was even harder to do alone, since he didn’t share any classes with Ron. All of his energy had to go into figuring out what was going on, grades be damned, because Harry was going to make this Heir pay.

“Geez,” Zabini said when they sat down for breakfast in late May. “You look awful, Alistair. You haven’t been sleeping either?”

“No,” Harry said, curtly, glowering down at his list of things. He had his first list in a messy black scrawl, with red trying to connect the different things together. It was his seventh copy of the list, since he kept rewriting them when he got frustrated.

“What is up with you?” Zabini asked. “You’ve been so angry lately. Are you even listening to me? Hey!”

He was angrily scritching out a black note about the girl who died, when Zabini bumped him with his elbow. His quill zipped across the parchment, and Harry was about to snap at Zabini, when he stopped. He lifted his quill, staring down at the line that now connected the black note on the girl that died, to the added red note on finding the diary in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, cutting through Riddles name, a note about when the Chamber opened the first time, and the words ‘freak accident’.

For a moment, Harry’s mind reeled. He blinked, mouth hanging open as he made the connection. Riddle had been at the school fifty years ago, when the chamber was first opened. When Harry found the diary in Myrtle’s bathroom, she had said that Riddle had gone to school there when she died. Tom had only mentioned one person dying in his years at Hogwarts. Which meant that Myrtle might be…

“Zabini!” Harry said, jumping out of his seat, making the other students around him jump as well. “You genius! I could kiss you!”

“Uh, not that I’m complaining, but what fo-? Hey! Where are you going?!”

Harry ignored him, hurrying quickly around the tables and to the Hufflepuff table. Ron instantly saw him, since most of the school was looking at him in alarm. Harry just grabbed his friends sleeve and tugged him up before he could say anything.

“I think I have a lead,” Harry said sharply, low enough that only Ron could hear. “Meet me in the library this afternoon. That’s when Lockhart will be guarding the door. He’ll be easiest to sneak past.”

Before Ron could ask, Harry was ready heading to the door, where a teacher was waiting to escort a group of students to their first classes.


	13. Pushed to the Limit

When Harry got to the library, he grabbed Ron by the arm, and pulled him into the shelves to whisper at him. 

“I think I know who the girl that died is,” Harry said quickly. “It has to be Myrtle. She knew who Tom Riddle was, said he went to school there when she died. It has to be her, Ron. So we need to find a way to sneak past the teachers and into the bathroom to ask her about the Chamber.” 

“Harry,” Ron said, staring at him. “When was the last time you slept?” 

“In Binns History class,” he said off handedly. “Ron, we have to-” 

“You haven't had History since Friday,” Ron said. “It’s  _ Monday _ .” 

“Ron!” Harry hissed, gritting his teeth. “I don’t have time to sleep! I can’t sleep when Hermione and Skyla are petrified! I’m going to find whoever did this, and.. And I’m… I’m going to…” 

He was shaking now, and he was feeling very, very dizzy. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, and his ribcage was hurting from how hard his heart was beating. Had his heart always been this fast?

“Careful there,” Ron said, and Harry felt an arm catch under his, keeping his upright. “Alright, I’m taking you to the hospital wing. Have you gone to see Hermione and your sister?” 

“No,” Harry said, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. 

“Well, We’re going to go see them. Right now. Professor, Harry isn’t feeling well.” 

“Oh my,” a stupid sounding voice said, though Harry wasn’t sure who, since the rushing sound in his ears were getting louder. “Yes, to the hospital wing. I would do a spell to fix him up myself, but I wouldn’t want to anger his mother any more then I already have.” 

Harry wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. He was walking, and someone annoying talking for a while, before he was on his back on something soft, his bag being taken from him. There was a moment where he felt something touching his lips, before he couldn’t feel anything. The world became silent, and Harry went into a dreamless sleep. 

XxXXxX

When Harry woke again, it had to be at least a few hours later. He felt tired still, but not like he was about to faint. Ron was sitting in a chair to his right, and Harry saw Madam Pomfrey pouring a potion from a large bottle into a smaller one. She didn’t notice he was awake for a while, but when she turned to set the small bottle on the table, she frowned at him. 

“You’re awake,” she said, sounding very cross with him. “Now, Mr. Alistair, I must say, what you did was very reckless. The body needs sleep to survive. Now, I’m giving you a bottle of Dreamless sleep. You’ll need to take one vial of it when you go to bed each night until it’s gone, and no more then that. Understand?” 

“Er,” Harry said, but saw the way she was fuming, and just nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

She nodded, and turned to put the larger bottle away. Harry watched her do, and for the first time since they were petrified, his eyes on where Hermione and Skyla were laying like statues to his left. Only, he wasn’t looking at their faces. He was focused on something in Hermione’s right hand. 

“Harry?” Ron said, standing when Harry did, to follow him to Hermione’s side. 

Harry ignored him, frowning down at Hermione’s hand, which lay clenched on top of her sheets. He poked and prodded at it, working it out of her vice grip, and held it up once he had it. It was a page from an old book, crinkled from being held in Hermione’s grip for so long. When he smoothed it out, he and Ron leaned over it to read. 

_ Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it. _

Harry remembered reading about the Basilisk. It had been in one of the books he had read when he first found the snakes. But it all made sense now. Because Hermione had found one of the missing pieces to the puzzle. 

“Ron,” he breathed. “This is it. This is the monster. There’s a Basilisk inside the Chamber. A giant serpent. That’s why I can hear it and no one else can, because I speak Parseltongue. And look. It kills people by looking at them. No one looked at it, so no one died. Creevy must have had his camera, Finch-Fletchley saw it through Nearly Headless Nick, and he’s already dead so he can’t die from it. And Hermione, Skyla, and the Ravenclaw girl must have seen it in the mirror. I bet Hermione warned the first person she saw to look around corners with a mirror first!” 

Ron was staring at him, slack jawed. “What about Mrs. Norris?” 

“The water,” Harry said, grinning. “She saw it in the reflection of the water from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.” 

“But how’s the basilisk getting around?” Ron asked. “A giant snake… Someone would’ve seen it by now. It’s tail, I mean.” 

“Hermione answered that to,” Harry said, pointing at the single word written at the bottom of the page. “Pipes. Ron, it’s been using the plumbing. I’ve been hearing its voice from inside the walls.” 

“What if the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in a bathroom?” Ron gasped, grabbing Harry’s arm. “What if it’s…” 

Harry couldn’t help but grin. “Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I was one step ahead of Hermione, I bet.” He waved the page. “Just skipped one.” 

“What’re we gonna do? Should we go straight to McGonagall?” 

“We’d have to go to the staff room,” Harry said. “I’m not sure what time it is, but she should be there soon if-” 

“All students,” McGonagall’s voice suddenly echoed through the castle. “All students return to your House dormitories at once. All teachers, return to the staff room. Immediately, please.” 

“Another attack?” Harry asked, anxiously. 

“What should we do?” Ron asked. “Go back to the dormitory?” 

“No,” Harry said, picking up his bag from the floor. With a glance to make sure Madam Pomfrey wasn’t watching, Harry pulled out the invisibility cloak. “We’ll sneak in. Hear what it’s all about. Then we can tell them what we know.” 

“Harry,” Ron said, sounding a bit surprised as Harry threw the cloak over the both of them. “How long have you been keeping that in your bag?” 

“Since the third week of April,” Harry confessed, pausing to tuck the bottle of dreamless sleep into his bag before leading the way out. “I figured that if I figured anything out, I could use it to sneak off and find you. Or if there was an emergency. I have other stuff to.” 

Ron shook his head at him as they made their way out of the hospital wing and up towards the staff room. They stuck close to the walls, following after Snape and Flitwick, and slipping into the room before the door closed behind them. Every teacher was standing or sitting around the room, looking concerned or puzzled. Some even looked scared. 

“It has happened,” McGonagall said as she entered the room. “Our worst fears have been realized. A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the heart of the Chamber itself.” 

The reactions around the room were varied. Flitwick let out a horrific squeal, and Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape was gripping the back of his chair so tightly that Harry swore it would splinter. 

“How can we be sure?” Snape asked, his voice a forced calm. 

“The Heir of Slytherin,” McGonagall said, face white. “They left another message. Right under the first. ‘ _ His skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever _ ’.” 

At this, Flitwick burst into tears. Snape gave a jerk, eyes going wide before narrowing, as if he had an idea of who had been taken. 

“Who is it?” Madam Hooch asked, sinking into a chair as she looked forlorn at the deputy headmistress. “Which student?” 

“That is the most troubling thing of all.” McGonagall glanced at Snape. “Draco Malfoy.” 

Next to Harry, Ron gave a jerk of surprise, and Harry turned to share a stunned look with him. Malfoy had been taken into the Chamber? Sure, Malfoy had changed a bit from the muggle-born hating prat he had been at the beginning of the year, but he was still one of the most pure blooded people Harry had met at Hogwarts. Why would Malfoy be taken into the Chamber? Did that mean Malfoy had stolen the diary from him? 

Harry was jerked out of his thoughts when the staffroom door banged open, narrowly missing Ron under the cloak. Each of the teachers were instantly on guard, but it was only Lockhart. Instead of battle ready looks, each teachers’ face morphed into some form of disgust. 

“So sorry,” Lockhart said, as he looked around, leaving the door open. “Dozed off. What have I missed?” 

It was then that Snape’s lips curled into a sneer, and he let go of his chair to step forward. 

“Just the man,” Snape said, fake complimenting. “The very man. A boy has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last.” 

“That’s right, Gilderoy,” Sprout chipped in when Lockhart jerked. “Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?” 

“I,” Lockhart stuttered. “Well, I-” 

“Yes,” Flitwick eagerly piped in. “Didn’t you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside?” 

“D-Did I? I don’t recall-” 

“I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn’t had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested,” Snape added. “Didn’t you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?”

Lockhart sputtered, staring back at the other stony faced teachers. 

“We’ll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy,” McGonagall said. “Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We’ll make sure everyone’s out of your way. You’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last.” 

For a moment, Lockhart looked around the room for help, only to find none. 

“V-very well,” he said, when no one came to his aide. “I’ll… I’ll be in my office. Getting… Getting ready.” 

With that, he left the room, and Harry shared another glance with Ron. Lockhart wasn’t stupid enough to go after the monster on his own, was he? Only, Lockhart was that stupid. He would get himself killed, trying to prove that his fake books were true. 

Ron and Harry were following Lockhart out the open door. As much as Harry hated the man, he wasn’t going to stand by and watch him die for no reason. The other teachers would be focused on evacuating the school. It would give them time to either help Lockhart not immediately die, or to go and save malfy themselves. 

“Are we really about to help save Malfoy?” Ron asked, when they had pulled the cloak off outside Lockhart’s office. “The most blood purist boy in our entire year?” 

“He’s still a person,” Harry said. “And he deserves to be saved just like anyone else.” 

They entered Lockhart’s office without knocking, and were surprised to find that the office had been stripped nearly bare. There were two trunks on the floor, with robes of every color hastily folded inside one. Books were stuffed inside another, looking as if they had been thrown, rather then placed. The portraits that had lined the walls were now placed inside a box on the desk. 

“Are you going somewhere?” Harry asked, voice tight as he gaped at the man. 

“Er,” Lockhart tried, as he pulled a life sized poster of himself off the back of the door. “Well, yes. Urgent call. Unavoidable. Got to go.” 

“What about Malfoy?” Ron asked, voice sharp as a knife now. 

“Well, as to that… Most unfortunate. No one regrets more than I-” 

“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Harry snapped, eyes narrowed. “You can’t go now! This is your job! All those things in your books-” 

“Books can be misleading,” Lockhart said carefully. 

“You’re a fraud,” Harry hissed, his hand already reaching for his wand. “I knew my father was right about you. You took credit for what other people have done, haven’t you?” 

“Harry, Harry,” Lockhart said, shaking his head impatiently. “It’s not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my Memory Charms. No, it’s been a lot of work, Harry. It’s not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog.” 

With a bang, he closed his trunks. “Let’s see… I think that’s everything. Yes. Only one thing left. 

Lockhart turned on then, reaching for his wand, but Harry and Ron already had theirs up. The blond gaped at them, clearly not expecting this, and Ron went to take his wand, putting it in Harry’s bag. The man was looking feeble and scared once more. His hands shot into the air. 

“Hey, Ron,” Harry said, his voice dangerously low. “Remember how I said everyone deserves a chance to be saved? Well, I think we can make one exception.” 

“Couldn’t agree more,” Ron said. 

“What d’you want me to do?” Lockhart whimpered. “I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“You’re in luck,” Harry said, his lips curling in a way he was sure would make Snape proud. “ _ We _ know where it is.  _ And  _ what’s inside it. Now march.” 


	14. Entering the Snakes Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, this is probably the longest chapter? It's a lot of exposition though. Still, hope you all enjoy!

They marched Lockhart to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom without a single word. The man was whimpering all the while, as Harry and Ron forced him into the bathroom first. It was with a bit of sick satisfaction that Harry noticed Lockhart was shaking. 

“Oh,” Moaning Myrtle said when she saw Harry enter the room. “It’s you. Have you found who threw the book?” 

“Maybe,” Harry said. “But I need to ask you something first. Is it alright if I ask how you died?” 

“Oh,” she said, sounding almost excited to tell him. “It was dreadful. It happened right here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then…” Myrtle’s face seemed to swell with pride. “I _died_.” 

“But how?” 

“No idea,” Myrtle said, now in a much more hushed tone. “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away.” With a dreamy look, she smiled at Harry. “And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.” 

“Where exactly did you see the eyes?” Harry asked, looking around. 

“Somewhere there,” Myrtle said, waving vaguely at the sink closest to her toilet. 

With a nod, Harry moved to the sink, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers over the faucet and the taps. When his fingers touched the engraving of the snake on the side, he furrowed his brow and focused on it. He had never really spoken parseltongue without a live snake nearby, but he was going to try. 

“ _Open_ ,” he hissed, then stepped back when a brilliant white glow blinded him from behind his eyelids. When he opened his eyes again, the sink was, well, sinking into the floor, and out of sight. In its place, a large pipe was exposed. It was wide enough for a full grown man to slide into. 

Harry didn’t hesitate. His hand flew out, grabbing Lockhart by the front of his robes, and yanked him toward the hole. The blond man gave out a cry of fear, turning to stare at the hole over his shoulder. 

“You,” Harry said evenly, “can go first.” 

And then, Harry pushed him. 

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron said as Lockhart’s scream echoed down the pipe. “I never knew you could be so dark. At least now I know better then to get on your bad side.” 

Harry gave a little smile, before he moved to sit on the lip of the pipe, his bag held carefully in his lap, before he followed Lockhart down. It was dark in the pipe, and going down it was a bit like a seemingly endless, slimy slide. He could see other pipes, smaller ones, connecting with the one they were in as it twisted and turned downward. Harry could hear Ron thudding a bit on the turns, and he made sure to protect his bag, so nothing inside could break. Last thing he needed was for his wand to be broken like Rons. 

When they reached the end, the pipe leveled out, and Harry was shot out the end with a thud. He landed on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel, with slimy looking walls and an echo of water dripping to the floor from somewhere. Lockhart was a little bit ahead of them, covered in slime and deathly white. Harry stood, stepping out of the way as Ron came shooting out the pipe. 

Casting a Lumos, Harry lit the cavern with his wand, and led the way ahead. He reminded them that if they though they saw any movement, they needed to close their eyes right away. It didn’t matter, though, as the tunnel was silent as a grave. The first unexpected noise they heard was a loud crunching sound when Ron had stepped on a rat’s skull. A look at the ground showed it was littered with small bones. 

Harry tied hard to not think about what Malfoy might look like when they found him. 

“Harry,” Ron said, voice hoarse and grabbing Harry’s shoulder. “There’s something up there.” 

Raising his want to get a better look, Harry easily walked forward. He recognized what Ron was talking about. It was much larger then what Harry had seen his own snakes leave behind, but there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that this was a shed snakes skin. It was at least twenty feet long, and it could only be the Basilisk’s. 

“Blimey,” Ron gasped. 

There was a sudden movement behind them, and they turned to see Lockhart having fallen to his knees. Ron rolls his eyes, and pointed his wand at Lockhart. 

“Get up,” he said sharply. 

Lockhart, much to Harry’s surprise, lunged at Ron, knocking him to the ground. Harry moved to step forward, but he was too late. Lockhart had Ron’s wand in hand, and gleefully smiling at them. 

“The adventure ends here, boys,” he said, as Ron scrambled to his feet. “I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, and tell them I was too late to save the boy. And you two, who followed me down here, tragically lost your minds at the sight of his mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories.” 

Harry felt like he should say something, as Lockhart raised Ron’s spellotaped wand high over his head. All of Ron’s spells this year had backfired. Whatever Lockhart was about to do, it was going to blow up in his face. Literally. 

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry was already moving to duck behind the snake skin, using it as a sort of flimsy shield to block the flying chunks of rock that were thundering to the floor. When the dust cleared, Harry was staring at a rockslide wall. 

“Ron?” He called. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m here!” Ron called back. “I’m fine. The git’s not, though. He got blasted by the wand.” There was a thud, and a loud ow, that made Harry think Ron had kicked Lockhart in the shin. “What now? We can’t get through. It’ll take ages…” 

After a quick glance around the cave, Harry made a decision. The ceiling was cracked, so he couldn’t use magic to move the rocks, or he risked a cave in. Not only that, but Malfoy had been in the Chamber for hours now. Who knew how much time he had left, if he was even still alive. 

“Wait there,” Harry said. “With Lockhart. I’ll go get Malfoy and… And if I’m not back in an hour…” 

“I’ll try and shift some of the rocks,” Ron said after a pause. “So you can… can get through. And Harry-” 

“I know,” Harry said, and continued on past the snake skin. 

The tunnel seemed almost as endless as the pipe. Now alone, Harry’s nerves were tingling unpleasantly, and he began to dread what he would find at the end of the tunnel, if he ever got there. But, at last,Harry turned another corner of the tunnel, and found a solid wall, with a vault like door. On the door, two serpents were intertwined, eyes made of glinting emeralds. 

Straightening his back, Harry approached the door, and cleared his throat. 

“ _Open_ ,” he hissed, his eyes locked on the emerald eyes. 

The wall cracked as the serpents parted, and the two halves of the door easily slid apart. Harry swallowed, and made his way through the door. His body was shaking from head to toe as he made his way inside. Each footstep echoed around the Chamber. 

Chamber of Secrets was a long and dimly lit chamber with towering stone pillars that entwined at the top with more carved serpents that rose to support a ceiling that was shrouded in darkness. Each pillar cast long black shadows a strange green gloom that covered the room. The most striking thing, though, was a silence that chilled the room. No hissing of the basilisk, and not sounds of Malfoy. 

Pulling out his wand, Harry continued between the serpentine columns. Each step echoed off shadowy walls, and he kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest bit of movement. There was no movement, however, and Harry found himself standing at the end of the line of pillars. 

Craning his neck, Harry looked up at a statue of Salazar Slytherin, the top of the statues head touching the dark ceiling. At the base of the statue, Harry saw a figure dressed in black, with pale blond hair, laying face down on the ground. Instantly, Harry was running to the other boy, dropping to his knees on the stones. 

“Malfoy,” Harry said, setting his wand aside to grab Malfoy’s shoulders and roll him over. “Don’t be dead, please, don’t be dead.” 

He took in the paleness of Malfoy’s face, as white as marble, and just as cold. Harry had been so absorbed in trying to find who had petrified Hermione and Skyla, that he hadn’t really noticed how strange Malfoy had been acting since the diary had been taken. He had, of course, but it had never been more then a passing thought. Malfoy tossing in his bed again, or the boy being strangely quiet. But now, it made some strange amount of sense. 

If Ron was right this time, that the diary was cursed, and if Malfoy had in fact stolen it, maybe… just maybe… Possession? 

“He won’t wake,” a soft voice said from behind him, as if to confirm Harry’s suspicions. 

Harry turned to look back towards the pillars. There was a tall, black haired boy standing against the nearest one, simply watching Harry. It was hard to look at him, as the outline of his body seemed to blur and fade into his surroundings. 

“Tom Riddle?” Harry asked, eyeing the blurry boy suspiciously. When Riddle nodded, Harry scowled. “Why won’t he wake?” 

“He’s alive, if that’s what you mean,” Riddle said, his eyes locked on Harry. “But only just.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry said. “What did you do? Are you… some kind of ghost?” 

“A memory,” Riddle said, pointing across the room. Harry didn’t look. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.” 

“I’m taking him,” he said firmly. “I’m taking him, and we’re leaving.” 

“It won’t do him any good.” 

Harry paused in turning to try and pick Malfoy up, and turned to face Riddle once more. 

“What did you do to him?” Harry asked. “Have you been using him to open the Chamber?” 

“It’s quite interesting,” Riddle said, voice pleasant, but a cruel smile on his lips. “And quite a long story. To answer your question in order of actual events, I suppose we have to start with Ginny Weasley.” 

“Ginny?” Harry asked, actually surprised. 

“Oh yes,” Riddle enthused. “Yes, Ginny Weasley started all of this. She had my diary first. She opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger. Little Ginny was writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes. How her brothers teased her, how she came to school with second hand robes and books, how…” A strange glint entered his eye. “How she didn’t think the famous Harry Potter would ever like her.” 

This time, Harry didn’t try to correct the mistake. 

“It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly troubles of an eleven year old girl. But I was patient. I wrote back, sympathetic and kind. Ginny simply loved me. So she poured her soul to me. And her soul was exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger, feeding off her deepest fears and her darkest secrets. And soon, I grew powerful enough that I could start feeding Miss Weasley a few secrets of my own. Pouring a little of my soul back into her... 

“She opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled roosters, wrote the messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on the Mudbloods and the squibs cat. But she didn’t know what she was doing at first. Very amusing. Her diary entries became much more… interesting. ‘Dear Tom, I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes, and I don’t know how they got there.’ ‘Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front.’ ‘Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me…There was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad…I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!’” 

As Riddle let out a cruel laugh, Harry clenched his fists. 

“It look a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” Riddle said. “But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that’s where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you. The very person I was most anxious to meet…” 

Harry had the strangest feeling he knew exactly who he was talking to. His stomach rolled, because of course it had to be. There was no one else that was that evil that had a grudge against Harry Potter. 

“Ginny had told me all about you, Harry. Your fascinating history. And I’m not talking about your history after being adopted by that Gerald Alistair. I knew that I had to find you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I tried to pull you in. I was so happy when you kept writing in the diary.” The smile faded into a look of displeasure. “But for some reason, I couldn't pull energy from you. I couldn’t pour my soul into you, not even using the power I had already gathered from little Ginny.

“But I had given up on killing mudbloods. For months, my target has been you. 

“Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it wasn’t you who was writing to me. It wasn’t even Ginny. ‘I know what you are’, Draco had written. ‘I know my father gave you to the Weasley girl. But it’s to late. Whatever you have planned, it won’t work.’ What a foolish boy. I was so furious that he had snatched me away from you. But it didn’t matter. I had just enough power to make the boy do what I wanted. 

“He was so weak, that taking control of him, even with only a little power, was easy. I had him go after your mudblood friend to provoke you. Imagine my pleasant surprise when I found out that my basilisk also go your sister. You must have been furious. But I told Draco, if he just gave my diary back to you, all would be forgiven. I would leave him alone. He refused, of course, so I tortured him in his sleep. I would pour just enough of my soul into him at night that I could control his dreams. Give him such vivid nightmares. ‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ he told me. ‘It won't work. I won't do it.’ Oh, but he didn’t stop there. He kept writing. 

“I grew bored with the torture after a while, and eventually, I made Draco write his own farewell message on the wall. He struggled and tried to fight me, but he was so weak, it was pathetic. But now, there isn’t much life left in him now. I’ve sucked to much of him into the diary. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I’ve been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you would come. But I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.” 

“Like what?” Harry spat, trying to stall for time. 

“Well,” Riddle said with a fake pleasant smile. “How is that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?” 

Harry couldn’t help but snort. It seemed to surprise Riddle just as much as Harry, and Harry held up a hand. “Sorry, it’s just… you’re not.” 

“Just figuring it out?” Riddle said. “I am-” 

“No,” Harry said. “No, I know who you are. But you’re not the greatest wizard of all time. Sorry to disappoint you, but the greatest wizard, at the moment, is Albus Dumbledore. I may not like the man, but even I will admit that. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over Hogwarts. He still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days.” 

The smile on Riddle's face had vanished. In its place, a dark and ugly look had formed. 

“Dumbledore has been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. 

“Are you sure about that?” Harry asked, mostly to just scare Riddle. He had nothing to back his claim, but he was trying to unnerve Riddle. 

Only, when Riddled opened his mouth, music filled the Chamber. It echoed, only slightly, off the walls, and was growing louder. The tone was eerie, sending tingles up Harry’s spine as the unearthly song continued. Then, when the music reached a pitch that Harry could feel it vibrating inside his ribs, flames burst to like at the top of the nearest pillar. 

Swooping down, a crimson bird the size of a sawn piped its strange song to the high ceiling. Its glittering gold tail trailed behind it, and in its golden talons, it held something in a ragged bundle. It dropped the bundle a few yards from Harry, and then landed heavily on his shoulder. 

“That’s a phoenix,” Riddle said, staring at the crimson bird. 

“Fawkes,” Harry corrected, and the bird gave Harry’s shoulder a gentle squeeze with its gold claws. 

“And that,” Riddle said, eyeing the ragged thing Fawkes had dropped. “That’s the old school Sorting Hat.” 

So, this is where Harry knows Dumbledore is actually involved somehow. Because as a phoenix, Fawkes can tell when someone shares his devotion. And since Harry was currently devoted to saving the school, Fawkes could definitely come and aide Harry on his own. But the sorting hat?... That was all Dumbledore. Some kind of test or something, trying to get Harry to be the Boy Who Lived, rather then who he really was. 

“This is what Dumbledore sends his defender!” Riddle suddenly burst with laughter. “A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?” 

Harry didn’t answer. Because as silly as it may sound, it did actually make Harry feel better. Well, not the Sorting Hat. That made no sense to Harry. But Fawkes was a welcome allie. Phoenixes were strong. They couldn’t die or be affected by magic that wasn’t their own. In a fight where a single look could kill him, Harry appreciated Fawkes help. 

“To business, Harry,” Riddle said, his smile returning. “Twice, in your past and in my future, we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk… the longer you survive.” 

“No one knows why you lost your power when you attacked me,” Harry said, glancing back at Malfoy. He didn’t have much time, so a fight was better done sooner, rather then later. “I don’t know. And as far as I know, you couldn’t kill me because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother,” Harry added, to rile Riddle up. “She stopped you from killing me. And I’ve seen the real you, I saw you last year. You’re a wreck. You’re barely alive. That’s where all your power got you. You’re in hiding. You’re ugly, you’re foul, and-” 

For a moment, Riddle look angry, but he forced a smile. “I see,” he said. “Your mother died to save you. Yes, a powerful countercharm. I can see now… There’s nothing special about you after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between up. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles, even if you were ‘adopted’. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike. But after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know.

“Now, Harry,” Riddle said, as his dark smile grew. “I’m going to teach you a bit of a lesson. Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter, and the weapons Dumbledore has given him.” 

And with that, Riddle turned to the statue of Salazar Slytherin, and hissed. 

“ _Speak to me_ ,” Riddle hissed, “ _Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four._ ” 

Harry turned and watched in horror as the mouth of the statue began to open. It opened wider and wider, until it was one massive black hole. Something was beginning to move inside. It began to slither from the depths, and Harry backed away until he was by one of the walls.

When the basilisk hit the ground with a thump, Fawkes spread his wings and took off. Harry didn’t want the bird to leave, but he knew that right now? Fawkes could do more damage to that thing then he could. 

Then, Riddle hissed once more. “ _Kill him_.”


	15. End of the Heir

Harry didn’t hesitate to turn around and run for the door. He was just a twelve year old for Merlin’s sake. What could he do to a basilisk that could kill him with a single look? 

So Harry ran. He ran, eyes shut tight as he tried his best to run in a straight line towards the door. Voldemort was laughing behind him, bouncing off the walls over the sound of the basilisks scales on the floor. Harry didn’t get very far, though, as he tripped on the stones. He fell hard, his teeth cutting into his lip, spilling blood into his mouth as his bag bounced against the rock. 

For a moment, Harry was sure that the basilisk would eat him. But he didn’t feel fangs sinking into his skin. Instead, there was an explosion behind him. Something hit the floor, shaking the the Chamber. There was a mad hissing sound and a thundering of what Harry could only assume was the basilisk hitting the stone pillars. 

Harry cracked open his eyes, turning his head to look at the basilisk. The enormous serpent was snapping furiously at as Fawkes. The phoenix was diving between the basilisks fangs, flying around the serpent's head, and sand out of sight for a moment. A shower of blood burst to the floor, the thrashing tail narrowly missing Harry, as the snake tossed its head. It turned, and for a second, Harry thought he would die, only to find that the basilisks eyes had been pecked out by Fawkes. 

“No!” Riddle screamed. “Leave the bird! Leave it! The boy is there! You can smell him! Kill him! Kill him!” 

Harry didn’t waste another second. He scrambled to his feet, ducking under the basilisks swinging tail, and ducked into a nearby pipe. It was just big enough that Harry could run freely through it without ducking, but it meant that the basilisk could slide through it just as easily. It would give Harry a bit of time to think, since it would take a minute for the basilisk to find the pipes opening without his eyes, and he quickly threw open his bag to look at what he had. 

Most of what Harry had was useless in this situation. The basilisk was following him by smell and sound, rather then sight, so the cloak wasn’t any good. He was sure his charms book and the third year book he got from Maria didn’t have any spells for fighting basilisk's, though it didn’t matter, since Harry had forgotten his wand by Malfoy. Lockhart’s wand was still in his bag, but it had snapped when Harry had fallen. 

He pulled out the last three things in his bag, as he turned around a corner. It was his Papa’s old slingshot, a bag of metal pellet balls, and the bottle of dreamless sleep. He wasn’t sure what he would use them for yet, but a vague idea was starting to form. He wasn’t the best shot, but if he could get the basilisk to open its mouth wide enough… It was crazy, and probably wouldn’t work, but it was something. 

Tugging open the bag of pellets, Harry poured some out into his hand and stuffed the rest back into his bag. He would need open space for there to be even a chance of this working, so he turned down another pipe towards a faint light, hoping it was the Chamber and was beaming when he found it was. Malfoy was still on the floor, looking paler, and Riddle was still standing there, though not as blurred around the edges. 

When Harry heard the sound of the basilisk starting to exit the pipe, he turned, loaded a pellet, and fired. The little metal ball whizzed through the air, bouncing off one of the basilisk's venomous fangs. It hissed, angry, but didn’t open his mouth. Harry kept trying, pelting the serpents mouth with little metal balls as he backs further and further away from it. Eventually, he had one ball left, this one feeling a bit heavier, and Harry remembered something that Moria had said when he had gotten the slingshot. Some pellets could be enchanted to grow when they were launched… 

Hoping to god this worked, Harry loaded his last pellet, and took aim. The basilisk was much closer now, halfway to him from the pipe, and Harry let the last pellet fly. At first, it didn’t change. It remained small and tiny, and Harry thought he was going to die. Only, halfway to the basilisk, it suddenly grew to the size of a bowling ball, and probably just as heavy. It hit one of the basilisk's fangs, sending it flying as the serpent threw back its head, mouth opened wide as it let out a loud noise of pain. 

Harry was so shocked that it had actually worked, he almost forgot to load the bottle into his slingshot. It was a bit to big for the leather cup, but it would work for now. Pulling the string as far back as he could, he aimed as carefully and as quickly as he could at the basilisk's mouth. Then, with a snap, Harry sent the bottle sailing through the air, and smashing against the roof of the serpents mouth. 

By another miracle, the potion slid down the serpents throat instead of splashing out, and the basilisk listed to one side, landing with a thud on the floor of the chamber. Harry had no idea how much dreamless sleep it would take to keep a basilisk asleep for a few hours, but one dose for Harry was one vial, and there had to be at least seven doses in the bottle. It would hopefully be out for a while. 

Feeling calm once more, Harry bent to pick up the basilisk fang from the floor, and held it up for Riddle to see. 

“No more basilisk,” Harry said, a smirk coming to his lips. “How does it feel to lose to a twelve year old?” 

“It is only asleep,” Riddle spat, though he didn’t look quite as smug as before. “But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter. You and me…” 

Riddle raised his hand, and Harry realized Riddle had taken his wand. That changed things, and Harry was instantly on guard. Then Fawkes gave a trill, and flew overhead, dropping something from its gold talons. At first, Harry thought it was going to be the Sorting Hat again, but he held out his hand to catch it anyway. It wasn’t the hat. It was the diary. 

For a second, both Harry and Riddle just stared at it. Then, Harry was moving on instinct once more, and plunged the basilisk fang into the cover of the diary. A piercing scream filled the air, riviling that of the book Harry had found in the restricted section the year before, long and dreadful. Ink spurted from the diary like blood, covering Harry’s hands as he stabbed the book again. Riddle was screaming, flailing as he fell to his knees. He grew bright, like a light was shining through his skin, before there was a crack and Riddle was gone. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry felt the adrenaline ooze out of him, just as ink oozed out of the diary. He walked on now shaky legs to retrieve his wand from where it had clattered to the floor. Really, Harry was feeling rather dizzy. After all, he hadn’t had a full night sleep in days, and he had spent the last few hours running through a tunnel and away from the King of Serpents.

There came a soft groan from near the statue, and Harry turned to find Malfoy beginning to move. Harry walked over, dropping to sit on the stone beside the blond as he sat up. For a moment, Malfoy squinted at him, looking dazed, and looked Harry up and down before growing pale once more. 

“Is that blood?” Malfoy sputtered, looking like he might be sick. 

Harry glanced down at himself, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t been injured, aside from a few scrapes from when he fell, but his clothes had been covered in dirt and in. Shaking his head, he held up the diary as an explanation, to tired to speak if he didn’t have to. It only made Malfoy look even more pale. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Malfoy said quickly, his voice shaking. “I wasn’t- Riddle made me, and I tried to- I tried to fight, because he was going to hurt you- I don’t know why, but he hated you, and I- I couldn’t let it-” 

“It’s okay,” Harry said, his voice a little softer then he meant it to be. “I know most of it. You can tell me the rest later. Right now, we need to get out of here.” 

“What about…” Malfoy’s eyes darted to the diary, then over Harry’s shoulder, at the basilisk. 

Harry showed Malfoy the hole in the diary, along with the basilisk fang. Malfoy was clearly confused, but Harry just smiled, and stood up. He followed Harry’s lead, though, and Harry held out a hand to steady the boy. Fawkes came down, landing on Harry’s shoulder with a soft trill, and they started to make their way towards the exit, picking up the sorting hat on the way. 

“Is it dead?” Malfoy asked softly as they passed the Basilisk. 

“No,” Harry said, pausing in thought as the basilisks head gave a small shudder. Should he kill it? There was no guarantee that he could control it, when it woke up. But he wasn’t sure if he could kill it. He didn’t have any knowledge on spells that could physically hurt things, and he didn’t have any weapons, other then his father’s now broken slingshot. Well, aside from the basilisks broken fang. Could he use the fang to kill the basilisk? 

He didn’t have time to figure it out, though, as the basilisk lifted its head. Malfoy made a noise of surprise, taking a few hurried steps back. Harry stood his ground, hand wrapped around his wand, trying to think of a spell to use if his first plan went wrong. 

“ _ Halt _ ,” Harry hissed, nerves on fire as he pleaded that this would work. “ _ Your master is dead. _ ” 

For a second, the basilisk didn’t move. Then, it lowered its head, its nostrils level with Harry’s face, and he half expected the basilisk to eat him when a puff air blew out and ruffled Harry’s hair. 

“ _ I am in your debt, small speaker, _ ” the basilisk hissed to him, the voice slick with something Harry assumed was an accent. “ _ But you are also to blame for my eyes, small speaker, and I am very hungry. _ ” 

“ _ We won’t be very filling, _ ” Harry said quickly. “ _ We are only children. But if you let us leave, I can promise you that I will return with proper food for you. And while we can not heal your eyes, I know someone who can take care of you, so you don’t get sick from infection, as long as you don’t hurt him. _ ” 

The basilisk thought it over, puffing out another wave of air onto Harry’s face. “ _ Very well, small speaker. You and your allie may leave. _ ” 

Harry bowed to the serpent, before he remembered that the basilisk couldn’t see him. “ _ Thank you. And please. My name is Harry. _ ” 

“ _ And I am Vissilassa, _ ” the basilisk hissed, rising once again, and turning back towards the statue. “ _ I will await your return, speaker Harry. _ ” 

Harry let out a breath of relief. He took hold of Malfoy’s hand and pulled him back through the stone door. For now, he would leave it open, so he could come back to see Vissilassa later. He’d have to come back with Hagrid before he left for the summer. 

“What just happened?” Malfoy sputtered, looking back and forth between Harry and the stone door. “What did you say to it?” 

“Her name is Vissilassa. I convinced her not to eat us, but I have to come back later with food. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Sort of.” 

They walked for a while longer, eventually reaching the basilisk skin, and where a rock wall had once blocked the way. Ron had cleared away a hole, and held out a hand to help Harry, and even Malfoy, through. He looked absolutely shocked to see Ron, and confused to see Lockhart. 

Fawkes took off, taking the lead to the mouth of the pipe they had come from. Malfoy was nervously explaining everything he knew about what had happened this year. His father had taken the diary from their house, and slipped it into Ginny Weasley’s school things in Diagon Alley. Malfoy hadn’t known what the diary was, but he started piecing things together, like Harry had, but in a different way. After seeing Harry with it in April, he stole the diary, wrote in it, and that’s when Riddle took hold of him. 

When they got to the pipe, they took hold of Fawkes tail feathers, and let the phoenix fly them out. Myrtle was surprised to see them, but Harry didn’t stop to talk to her. They had to get to McGonagall, tell her what had happened. The door to McGonagall’s office was open when they reached it, and angry voices were shouting from inside. 

Inside was Harry’s parents, Ron’s parents, and Malfoy’s parents. There was their also McGonagall, Snape, and perhaps most surprising of all, Dumbledore. 

“Harry!” Mama called, suddenly there and pulling him into her arms. She ignored the grime and ink on his clothes, as Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Malfoy went to their own sons. “Oh, thank god, you’re alive!” 

“You saved my son,” Mrs. Malfoy said, cupping Malfoy’s face and smoothing out his hair. “Thank you. Both of you.” 

“I would like to know how,” Mr. Malfoy said, voice low and sharp. “You are only a child, yet you killed the monster in the Chamber?” 

Once Mama had let him go, Harry stepped forward to place the Sorting Hat, the diary, and the fang on the desk, along with the broken slingshot. He explained almost everything about how he had gotten to the point where Malfoy was taken. How he kept hearing the basilisk in the pipes, and how he had found the diary in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. With a glance to Malfoy, he had fuged some of the details, saying that he must have mixed up the diary with one of Maria’s books and given it to the blond. 

He couldn’t look at any of them as he explained the events that lead to him being in the hospital wing earlier that night. The rage and anger he had felt at his sister and close friend being petrified, determined to figure out just who the Heir was, driving himself to exhaustion just after guessing it was Myrtle that had died years ago. He told them about finding the page about the basilisk in Hermione’s hand, after waking up in the hospital wing, and having everything pieced together. Then, he talked about how he and Ron had ignored the announcement from McGonagall to go to the staff room, just as Lockhart arrived. Hearing that the defense professor was going to go in after whoever was taken, Harry and Ron had gone after Lockhart to tell him everything they knew. 

After a quick explanation on how Lockhart had really made his fame, Harry explained taking Lockhart to Myrtle’s bathroom, and how they had gone down into the Chamber. He explained everything about getting separated from Ron, and continuing on his own. He explained in full the diary, now, about who had made it and what it was. He did leave out most of his conversation with Tom Riddle. Instead, he told them that Riddle boasted about how he later became Voldemort, how his diary had been passed around between a group of unnamed girls, and after a quip from Harry, Fawkes had appeared with the Sorting Hat. 

He had to close his eyes as he explained the fight with the basilisk, and how he was sure he would die, if he couldn’t stay ahead of it. Fawkes had saved him from its gaze, but not from its fangs. With a glance at Malfoy, a silent plea to remain silent, Harry explained how he had then used fang he had knocked off the basilisk to destroy the diary, and then used it to kill the serpent itself. 

“The children should go to the hospital wing right away,” Dumbledore said, his voice sounding firm. “This has been a terrible ordeal for them all. There will be no punishment, of course. Older and wiser wizards then them have been hoodwinked by Voldemort. Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up.” 

“There is still the matter of them breaking the rules,” Papa said, as the Malfoys quickly left. “They did a very dangerous thing tonight.” 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, as the Weasley’s looked shocked. “I suppose they do. However, their actions were to help that of another a student, without care of who it was. I believe that is deserving of points, rather then expulsion. Yes, I think two hundred points a piece for your houses will do. Along with Special Awards for Services to the School.” 

“I think another summer grounded will do one better,” Mama said, scowling at Dumbledore. “Where I can keep an eye on him. Honestly. You’re encouraging this bad behavior.” 

But Dumbledore simply smiled, and let them leave. The Weasley’s went first, and before Harry followed his parents out, he paused to look at the diary and fang on the table. Papa seemed to notice, and gave a small grunt, before picking the two items up. He gave Dumbledore a narrowed eyed look, before leading Harry out to the infermy. 

He was yawning before he even laid down in the bed. Mama smoothed his hair, scolding him in soft tones of fondness and worry. She promised she would say with him until he fell asleep, but told him not to worry when he found her gone whenever he woke. He would see them both at the end of term. 

XxXXxX

When Harry did wake, he was alone in the hospital wing. And by alone, he meant completely alone. Mama and Papa were gone, but so were Ron and Malfoy. And, more importantly, all the petrifies students. 

He scrambled out of his bed when he finally noticed. He scooped up his bag from the floor, stuffing the diary and fang that had been left on the table into it, and hurried out of the room before Madam Pomfrey could even see him. If Skyla and Hermione were up, he wanted to see them. 

He found them waiting in the courtyard. Skyla was happy to hug him and smile, letting him just be close to her. Hermione was so happy to hear he had figured out the mystery. Later, once he had calmed down and gotten cleaned up, he told her and Ron what had really happened to the basilisk. 

Once Hagrid returned, Harry went to talk to him. He asked Hagrid if, hypothetically, he would be interested in taking care of a basilisk. Hagrid replied that, hypothetically, he was. So Harry spent a few hours taking Hagrid down to the Chamber and introducing him to Vissilassa. The serpent was a bit disappointed that Hagrid wasn’t a parselmouth, but helped Harry find a pipe Hagrid could use to get in and out during the summer while Harry was gone. 

And with that, the rest of term flew by. Exams had been canceled, and most of their classes were much more relaxed. Defense wasn’t even happening, since Lockhart had been carted off to Saint Mungo’s. 

When it was time to go home on the Hogwarts Express, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, playing exploding snap and just enjoying their time together before Hermione went back to the muggle world. At Kings Cross, Harry waved goodbye, and went to join his parents once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that's a wrap! Chamber of Secrets is done! Next up is the Prisoner of Azkaban, and, honestly, what I have so far isn't all that great. And it's probably going to be on the lower end of the quality scale. Which kinda sucks, because I like what I've done so far!   
> Comment your favorite moment of my Chamber of Secrets! Mine has to be Harry's new fight with the Basilisk.


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